The Most Honest Truth
by ShinyGargant
Summary: [Tales of Xillia 2, Post-Chapter 12, alternate version of events. Rideaux-centric. Ridulius] Divergence catalysts—a tragic but well-documented side effect of Chromatus use. But what if there had been some means to undo the damage done? What if someone had tried to find a way?
1. Chapter 1

This is a fic I started back in December as part of of 'Tales of' Christmas exchange, not at all expecting it to be quite so expansive. In practice, Rideaux had far too much to say, and I wasn't able to make it the one-shot I had initially anticipated. Instead, here we are, ongoing. I won't tell you what the prompt was _precisely _because it implies the tone of the eventual ending, but essentially they wanted an AU focused on Rideaux and Julius. And that's exactly what this is! I have been posting it at regular intervals on Archive of our Own, and today thought that perhaps people here would enjoy it as well: here's hoping for that!

So this fic is for Nienna, should they happen to pass along this way. so glad you've enjoyed so far, so glad to have the chance to write for you! Everyone else, please enjoy!

* * *

Perhaps if he had known what was to come, Rideaux would never have listened to the message.

Seated at his desk, Rideaux was enjoying the sensation of having very little to do. Just one of the perks of his new promotion—as Director of the DODA, passing off work to _lesser_ employees had never been easier or more acceptable. Sure, his coffee was still served too damn cold, but who would dare to complain if he sat behind Julius's— sorry, _his_ desk all day and did absolutely nothing at all? Not even Bisley would care, busy as he was pressing forward with the final preparations for Origin's Trial.

Life was looking as fine as it ever had. Maybe there wasn't a great deal of competition for the title 'Best Time in Rideaux Zek Rugievit's Life', but even so. This was it.

That was, until the message ruined everything.

Rideaux picked up his GHS without a second thought, flicking it open to see what had prompted the notification to sound. Not a text at all, but instead a voice message from an unidentified number. _That_ was certainly unusual, and he sat a little straighter before tapping to listen.

_Meet with me, you know where. Come alone_.

That was it. No time, no place, not even so much as a greeting. So very, very typical of _Julius_. Rideaux pressed the GHS hard to his ear and listened with rapt intent, replaying the message and trying to catch any clue or sign as to where the sender might be. That was all he wanted, just some innocent tell-tale background noise to reveal where the message had been delivered from. Was that really too much to hope for?

But of course it was, and he should have known better. Julius had always been much too careful for that sort of thing. Even so he listened three more times before deleting the message, and only on the last play did Rideaux allow himself to begin considering the words.

_Meet with me, you know where. Come alone_.

Julius. _Julius_, it was always damn Julius who found some way to sour his morning. Even when he wasn't _present_ he found a way. Rideaux sat back, shifted around in a fit of newly frustrated discomfort, then leaned forward again to rest his elbows against the polished surface of his desk. This office had always been too stuffy. No wonder if had suited Julius so well all these years.

Why would he agree to such a thing? Blind curiosity? Did Julius really think him such an idiot? Rideaux swigged a mouthful of his too cold coffee and resisted the urge to spit. _That_ was just like Julius too, to have such a low opinion of him. Why would he ever fall into such an obvious trap? Bah. He had half a mind to do it, just to give Julius a well-deserved piece of his mind. Show him just how difficult it was to _truly_ catch him off-guard.

… And it _was_ true that he had nothing else booked in for the day. Bisley was unlikely to call on him, all his other tasks had been delegated... And he really didn't fancy being served any more of this abysmal tar they were calling a macchiato.

_Come alone_, though? Not a chance. Rideaux rapped his fingers against the desk as he considered, before shoving himself to his feet.

This was _not_ how he had envisioned starting his day.

* * *

Standing in the gloomy backstreets of downtown Duval, Rideaux turned and fixed Ivar with one final deathly glare.

"This is the last time. Say it back to me."

Ivar stood taller, chin raised as if to try and contend with the height difference between them. "You're here on private business, sir, not to be repeated to anyone, sir. My job is to scout the vicinity and report directly to you if I see anything suspicious. If you don't come back out in one hour's time, I'm to force my way in and use any means necessary to—"

"Just aim for his face," Rideaux interrupted, taking a moment to imagine the sight. Ivar would be no match for Julius, but with the edge of surprise in his favour? Maybe he'd be able to land a hit or two before being annihilated. It would be nice to see _Julius_ sporting the blackened eye for a change.

"Right. Aim for his face, sir." On that Ivar crossed his arms and nodded firmly, before casting a conspicuous eye over their surroundings. "I'll get to it."

Rideaux watched, deadpan, as Ivar disappeared down an alley and out of sight, and considered—not for the first time that day—the depths of his own foolishness. It was a novel experience, at least; he was usually far more cautious than this. Yet here he was, answering a summons from Julius and bringing _Ivar_ of all people to serve as his back-up.

Julius _had_ told him to come alone, but Rideaux was never going to make a choice _that_ stupid. His scalpels were pinned beneath the pressed sleeves of his suit—if he was to have some clandestine meeting with wanted fugitive Julius Will Kresnik, then he was at least going to do so armed and prepared.

Or at least as prepared as possible on such short notice. Julius hadn't provided a time, which meant _'come immediately or not at all'_. As for the place... '_You know where'_ could really only be here, a bar that Rideaux enjoyed and Julius merely tolerated, and a place they'd met frequently during their embattled teenage years. How long now since they'd last been here together?

_Too long_, a part of him thought.

The stupid part, clearly. It was Julius who had grown less and less inclined to deal with him, something that made more sense now that little Ludger Kresnik was in the picture. Sure, he and Julius had never been _friends_, not in the way normal people would mark such things, but there might have been a time once when they'd be _lesser_ enemies. Julius was to blame for that. Julius was to blame for a great many things.

And yet, again. Here he was. With one last cynical glance, Rideaux walked down the steps of the Film Noir and stooped his way through the door.

The bartender was familiar, and familiar with Rideaux. More importantly, he was familiar with Rideaux's increasingly influential position in Spirius, and was very well-behaved as a result. Just the sort of qualities Rideaux liked to see from a lowly common man. Indeed, his customary bottle of Duval Noir was served before he'd even made his way across the room, accompanied by a single glass topped with ice. Rideaux smiled.

"A second," He ordered glibly, watching the flicker of surprise in the barman's eyes as he obeyed. "And I'll be taking this to the back room today. You'll know my guest when he arrives. See he's let through, and _please_, let's be sure to keep this hush hush, mm?"

It was funny what a man could read into a polite request given in just the right tone. The bartender nodded, placed a second chilled glass atop the bar, and went back to his work without any further comment. Still smiling, Rideaux collected his drink, the glasses, and headed to the back.

Privacy was something he'd always savoured. Too many days spent beneath unwelcome eyes had seen to that. The back room was dingy and erred toward unclean, carrying with it the sort of grim haze associated with long nights of poker and illegal—or illicit—liaisons. Given the unique circumstances, that suited Rideaux just fine. The room held three booths, each with space to comfortably sit four or uncomfortably cram six. Otherwise there was a thin wooden bar along one wall, lined with long-legged barstools—that sort of space had always suited him better, and that was where Rideaux settled himself to wait.

It didn't take long.

He didn't bother looking up when Julius entered, settling for a sidelong glance and a thin shrug of shoulders. "You kept me waiting," he lied, and let Julius draw whatever conclusions he liked from Rideaux's apparent disinterest.

In truth he wanted nothing more than to stare Julius down. No, better, he wanted to shake the truth out of him, and maybe throw a little violent revenge into the bargain. They still had a score that needed settling. Their last encounter, and Julius's grand escape from captivity, had been a... less-than-satisfactory experience, in the sense of it being a complete and humiliating disaster. Never mind the bruising to his precious face.

Even Ivar had had a good chuckle at that one. When you were low enough for _Ivar_ to laugh at you, something had gone terribly wrong.

The whole fiasco played through his mind, and Rideaux silently commended himself for maintaining nonchalant composure. If he wanted to find out just what game Julius was playing, he had to appear to be following the rules. At least for now.

Broad-shouldered, and looking eminently composed, Julius silently closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. He didn't appear to be armed—but then, neither did Rideaux, and they both had the Chromatus at their disposal. It was a polite fiction, at least, and one Rideaux took note of.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Julius said, and for a second it almost looked as though he was going to smile. Barely a shadow of warmth, yet a lot more than Rideaux had come to expect between them. Perversely, he almost found himself returning the gesture—managing at the last moment to twist the empty sentimentality into a far more fitting smirk.

"Consider it curiosity," He said, and shrugged again as he motioned for Julius to join him at the bar. "Not the wisest choice I've ever made, no doubt, but it really would have eaten me up not to know. Sit down, Julius. Have a drink with me." Rideaux topped his own glass from the shared bottle to punctuate the point, holding Julius's gaze as he took a fire-laced sip. _See? No poison. You can trust me._

Even so Julius didn't move. Rideaux placed his shotglass back down with a heavy thud, unimpressed at having his courtesy ignored.

"Does anyone know you're here?" Julius asked, and continued asking when Rideaux met the question with a withering look. "I'm serious. Does Bakur know you're here?"

_He should_, Rideaux thought. "No. He doesn't, Spirius doesn't, nobody knows." _Except Ivar_. "I'm not armed, I'm all alone. Here I am, Julius. So, you would care to tell me what's going on? I don't like being kept in the dark, least of all by you."

"When have I ever done that?" Julius replied, as bare-faced a lie as Rideaux had ever heard. "I've done a lot for your over the years."

"_Really,_" Rideaux drawled, crossing his legs in one long languid motion. "I can't say I ever noticed."

"Of course not," Julius snapped back without hesitation, then belatedly seemed to catch himself. Rideaux watched with mounting fascination as Julius took several deep breaths, gathering composure in apparent preparation. Despite everything Rideaux leant forward, attention thoroughly captured by this strange performance. Just where _was_ this going? Julius drew in air, opened his mouth to speak.

"_Mrrrow_," said a voice from beyond the door, followed immediately by a young girl's loud conspiratorial whisper; "Shh, Rollo! Not yet!"

There was a long silence. Julius, damn him, didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed. Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed to the thinnest of glowering points, Rideaux asked, "Do we have guests, Julius?"

He didn't even bother to answer, instead simply turning on one smart heel and opening the door. There - like something out of a weekend morning comedy – stood, crouched and knelt a too familiar bunch. Elle was on the floor, hands pressed across the jowly face of Julius's grossly fat cat. Beside her was Ludger, looking alarmed, and a very pink-faced blonde girl who's name Rideaux had never bothered to learn. One by one he checked off the rest of them—Maxwell herself, looking affronted to even be in his presence. Alvin Svent, the vying businessman, and next to him the reporter girl. Doctor Jude Mathis, possibly most familiar of all. And behind _them_ stood the important ones, the Rieze Maxian officials.

Floating above, all great billowing hair and an expression of falsely delicate shock, was the spirit wench. "Oh dear," She crowed, sounding too pleased by half. "It looks as though we've been discovered. How scary."

"Quiet, Muzét," King Gaius murmured, motioning. Rideaux watched them file in, and felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach, something between excitement and dread. It was a feeling he knew well by now: the looming threat of attack.

_I've survived worse odds than this_, he thought to himself, not dwelling on whether or not that was particularly true.

The group fanned out to fill the room, Julius closing the door behind them and standing with arms crossed at the back. Rideaux gave him another withering glare before turning his attention to the rest. None of them had their weapons drawn, but they _were_ all armed, and wearing expressions that ranged from mild curiosity to outright disgust. He found himself liking _those_ faces much more—it was always nice to know he'd made a lasting impression.

If they were all going to stand then so was he; Rideaux rose, and smirked ice at the collective ripple that followed his movements. Oh yes, they were all quite prepared to fight him. And here he was, surrounded. He'd gone against his own damn instincts, and now he was surrounded. By _amateurs_. It was enough to curdle the blood.

"_I _came here in good faith, and _this_ is how you repay me. What is this, Julius? You lure me out here and then you kill me?" Rideaux's mouth twisted, something between grimace and smirk. "I must say that seems low, even for you."

He looked at Ludger, then, with something more akin to a sneering grin; Ludger, the dim-witted little brother so very adept at following orders. Or so it had seemed. "Have you been working together this entire time? If so I must say I'm impressed. Here I thought you truly were nothing more than Bakur's convenient pawn. Bravo indeed.

And here I am. Innocent, unaccompanied, and so willing to hear what you had to say. Quite a reversal, isn't it? By all means, try and make me regret it."

It was the Svent who answered first, with far too much cocky dismissal for Rideaux's liking. "You really do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?"

"Shut up, Rideaux." Julius. Of course that was Julius. "And sit back down. Unless that willingness to listen is just another of your bluffs."

It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, not even close. Rideaux caught himself in a moment of frozen indecision, swallowed surprised and narrowed it into suspicion. "Don't make me keep asking this." Rideaux settled back slightly on the heels of his smart dress shoes, one hand settled on his cocked hip. "Just what game are you playing?"

"This isn't a game." Jude Mathis, no friend of his. He knew better than to trust that placating tone. "We really are here to talk."

"And that requires twelve of you to just one of me? I'm outnumbered and unarmed. You're making me uncomfortable." They all exchanged glances at that, so beautifully predictable in their desire to be _fair_. Under other circumstances he would have rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't want to thin their numbers, but he could almost see the cogs turning in their collective do-gooder minds. Where could he possibly go? Even _if_ they stepped outside the room he'd still have to break through them to escape.

Tch. The thought alone chafed him. How could he have let himself step into this farcical trap in the first place?

Rideaux swallowed and watched, weighing their reactions. Ludger was looking to his brother for guidance. Milla Maxwell, arms folded, seemed prepared to fight to the death before giving a single inch—Rideaux graced her with a heavy-lidded smile, and suppressed another smirk at the way her eyes narrowed in response. Gaius was looking equally staunch, and that damnable spirit alongside him... well, who knew what _she_ was thinking behind that vacant smile...

One long breath, then another, before he delicately began to sidle left. Distracted as they were, perhaps... but no. And it wasn't even Julius who cut him off. The Rieze Maxian Prime Minister was there, a disarming expression on his face as he softly suggested, "You probably shouldn't try."

"Probably not," Rideaux agreed through a gritted smile. This was ridiculous, and his patience had run its limited course. With a surly glower towards all present he turned, perched back on the barstool and poured himself another glass of Duval Noir. If Julius wasn't going to share with him, then fine. He'd just drink it all himself. "Enough dawdling," he snapped, drawing their eyes back to him. "If you aren't going to kill me, how about getting to the point. The sight of you all is giving me a headache."

It was Maxwell who took the bait, looking no more willing to move than before. "Firstly, you've already lied to us."

"Is that so?" He replied breezily, and wondered what he might have said to warrant the accusation. She probably wasn't wrong.

"You told us you're here unaccompanied. That isn't true."

"We've already seen Ivar," Jude added, in a tone almost apologetic.

Ivar. _Ivar._ Just another one for the list of terrible decisions he'd made today.

"Of course you have." Rideaux curled his lip, taking a long sip from his glass. They were still no closer to telling him what this is all about. "Would you like a written apology? I said, _get to the point_."

The girl in the hat grinned at that, looking as though she would enjoy a written apology very much indeed. Rideaux privately resolved to send something scathing to the paper she worked for.

Jude motioned to Ludger, an ambiguous gesture. Rideaux wondered if it was an invitation to speak, or an offer to do so in his stead. Either way, baby brother Kresnik returned a stricken look, glancing first at Elle and then plaintively at Julius before finally speaking up. "Elle is... Elle's becoming a divergence catalyst." Ludger met his gaze at that, his eyes suddenly filled with a spark of something disgustingly Julius. "We have to find a way to stop it."

"Fascinating," Rideaux said shortly. It was Julius who had his attention now, Julius who stared back at him with stiff shoulders and dead eyes. _He hasn't told them_, Rideaux suddenly knew, a satisfying blossom of realisation. It was about time _something_ went in his favour. "Go on."

Once again, it was Milla Maxwell who spoke. "Julius believes you might be able to help," she began, the disbelief in her voice very apparent. "He says you have been involved with catalysts, and the Chromatus itself, for a long time. He values your expertise. If we want to find a solution quickly enough to save Elle, he believes we need your assistance."

That at least seemed to pull a response from Julius—a low grumble, heedless of the fact Maxwell wasn't done speaking, followed by a muttering, "I don't remember saying all that."

With a firm shake of her head, Maxwell continued. "I disagree. You've already proven yourself untrustworthy. We have solved many problems together, Jude, our comrades and I. I see no reason to involve anyone we don't have cause to trust— in particular, I see no reason to involve _you_."

Young Elle wasn't the only one still mourning that fake Maxwell, then. It must have been terribly easy for them to judge him, especially now having him at such a disadvantage. Rideaux ground his teeth in muted frustration, taking silent note of the pained look on Jude's face, the pointed one Maxwell returned. More knowledge worth having—they were in disagreement about this plan.

Oh well, not that it really mattered. Time to shatter their dreams.

"Again, this is fascinating," he said, in a tone completely devoid of fascination. "There are so many holes in what you're saying I don't know which ones to point out first."

"I know it sounds bad," Jude said, a colossal understatement. "But we have to try."

Ludger nodded, firm, fervent, short-sighted in the extreme.

Rideaux sighed, swirling idly the contents of his glass. "Surely Julius has already told you everything I'm about to say, but let me repeat it for the class. Spirius has always been aware of what happens to those who overuse their Chromatus. Do you think you're the first ones to try and find the escape clause? There isn't one. There never has been, and there never will be. No amount of belief is going to change that." Then he smiled, at the girl Elle and the furious glare she returned. "What you need, girl, is to get your affairs in order. Because pretty soon you're going to be gone. Would you like me to make some arrangements?" With false brightness he turned the smile to Julius, "Is _that_ the sort of help you wanted me to offer?"

"That's enough, Rideaux," Julius interjected firmly, at the same time Maxwell snapped, "You're disgusting to taunt an innocent child." Between them it was more than enough to set him laughing.

"I don't want him to help me!" Elle shouted into the din, shaking herself free of Ludger's attempts to hold her. "He killed Milla, he's horrible! I hate him!"

"And yet here I am, the only one telling you the truth." Rideaux lurched to his feet once more, bending forward to grin at her, almost face to face. She was crying, snotty-nosed and red-cheeked, too comical for words. "You should really thank me."

Instead she ran, pelting out the door with her stupid fat cat in tow. He wasn't sorry to see her go. Even crying children couldn't entertain him for long. Ludger chased her immediately, of course, the two younger girls following after. Smiling placid satisfaction, Rideaux straightened and turned, beginning to reach for his drink.

Julius blocked him, eyes steely behind black frames. Rideaux jerked back, but too slow—Julius caught hold of his wrist, squeezed tight. There weren't many alive who could make Rideaux grimace with only their bare hands, but damn Julius...

"I said, that's enough." Julius intoned, deadpan voice punctuated with a savage twist of his iron grip. Rideaux hissed and twisted with it, but managed to smirk around clenched teeth.

"And I heard you. What else would you like me to tell them, Julius? I can think of a few things." Rideaux flicked his gaze to Julius's gloved hand, the one busy grinding the fine bones of his thin wrist... and gave another hiss, relieved this time, when the grip finally lessened. Julius didn't let go, though.

"Everyone, wait outside. I'll talk to him."

Rideaux scoffed at the minor uproar caused by Julius's words. Just who did these idiots think they were to try and argue with—with _either_ of them. No one, and it was one small blessing that they didn't take long bickering about it. Jude gave a long measured look before asking Julius 'not to hurt him', a comment that almost had Rideaux biting his tongue in irritation. Gaius was the last to leave the room, and not before making it clear that he would only be on the other side of the door should any need arise. Julius thanked him, low and humble before foreign dignity. Rideaux, still loosely restrained, did little more than sneer.

And then, finally, they were alone once again.

Julius shoved him hard and followed at pace, giving Rideaux no room except to back up into one of the seating booths. It wasn't the sort of space he liked, a low table scraping high knees, but with a nod of mock deference he took his seat and shuffled along the bench. Julius, still sharp-eyed and unimpressed, took a place opposite him.

"Isn't this cosy?" Rideaux smiled, before glancing mournfully at his drink still resting on the bar. The table where they sat was stained with old familiar rings of coffee and liquor, and the harsh scratched dent of knife-point; the legacy of a heated poker dispute. Rideaux hadn't been at the Film Noir that night, but the story afterwards had been amusing.

Rideaux knew himself. Knew well enough that there was nothing in this world he 'loved'. But even in fractured dimensions he'd always found a particular soft spot for this wretched bar. It always felt like _his_, as much as anything ever did. But now these idiots were tainting it with this ridiculous set of humiliations, and Julius—of all people, damnable _Julius_—was acting as their ringleader.

"I don't appreciate this, Julius." Not the first truth he'd given that day, but it certainly felt like the most honest.

"Talk to me, Rideaux," came the response. Unexpected, again. "Do you really think this is impossible?"

Rideaux tapped a fingernail against the tabletop, eyes narrowed in deep contemplation. Finally, "We both know it can't be done." He leaned forward, scrutiny deepening into outright suspicion. "Unless there's something you're not telling me. What do you know that I don't? You've discovered something, haven't you?"

"No." Julius had never been the sort to show weakness easily, even with the number of missions he and Rideaux had served together. _We're both too proud for that_. Nonetheless he raised one hand, elbow settling on the table as he massaged the bridge of his nose just above his glasses. "Nothing new."

_At least I'm not the only one getting a headache,_ Rideaux thought, watching the methodical motions of Julius's fingers. When it seemed as though Julius wasn't going to say anything further Rideaux spoke again, voice low and, alas, sincere. "Was I right about the glove?"

_That_ pulled a response; Julius looked at him, expression sharp and openly surprised. "You were _guessing?"_

"An educated guess, and years of observation," Rideaux snapped in turn, folding his arms and leaning back so far as his current position allowed. "If that's how you want to put it. If you're going to tell your new friends I'm oh-so-smart then why don't you try believing it. I know how things work, Julius. You and I have both been at this for years."

Julius continued to stare at him, expression shifting only enough to take on its customary guarded look. Shaking his head, Rideaux continued, "Since this is just between us, I'll admit it—we both know you've destroyed more fractured dimensions than I have. It only stands to reason that now _you_ would be in worse shape." _In this regard, at least_. "What is this really about, Julius? Do you really want to save the girl? Or are you just using them to save yourself?"

"I want to save Elle," Julius replied, whip-like. Rideaux only raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry, arms still crossed as he waited for Julius to inevitably give in and elaborate. "She's important to Ludger, and an innocent child. After her, it'll be Ludger who suffers."

"If Bisley doesn't get him first," Rideaux muttered in response, deciding not to make any other comment on Julius's priorities.

"Rideaux, I know this has been tried before. Believe me, I know that. But things are different now. Ludger has allies that Spirius has never been able to turn to—Maxwell herself, for one. Jude Mathis. I've seen the things he's achieved, here _and_ in the fractured dimensions. Rowen Ilbert, he's no fool. Yes, it's true, we've never seen a dimension that had a cure—that doesn't mean there isn't one. I doubt we'll even be the first ones to have found it. But only if we _try_."

"Should I say it again?" This time he spoke clearly, frustrated to be forced into the cowards role by Julius's uncharacteristically blind enthusiasm. "Bis-ley Ba-kur. Do you think he'll just allow this? Time is running out, and he wants Origin's Trial _done_. You think he's going to agree to putting all his efforts on hold while the DODA starts on this fools errand?"

"But I'm not _asking_ the DODA. I'm asking _you_. This has nothing to do with Bisley."

"Oh, don't be an idiot, Julius. You want my help? That means you're asking me to go behind Bakur's back. Do you know what would happen to me if he found out? Two words." Rideaux grimaced in distaste at the thought of _that_ impending future. "Which, thanks to your worthless brother, is looking increasingly likely _anyway_. Bisley's taken a perverse shine to him, you know."

Julius twitched at that, but kept his expression otherwise neutrally blank. Waiting for Rideaux to buckle and break the silence; yet more typical Julius behaviour.

At times like this Rideaux hated how well they knew each other.

"What's in it for me?" He finally asked, turning away and chewing his tongue in silent petulant thought.

"You have to ask?" Julius did a good job of masking the disgust in his voice, but Rideaux knew too well that it was there. "Anything that benefits Elle benefits you too. We're talking about removing the effects of Chromatus overuse—a way to avoid becoming a catalyst. You said it yourself, Rideaux. This is something that affects both of us."

"Mm." Not untrue, even if he had managed to keep the physical signs at bay, at least so far. It was easier to avoid Chromatus work these days, with so many willing agents flocking to Bisley's cause, and company darling Ludger working so hard to pay his exorbitant debt. _He_ hadn't been to a fractured dimension in months. Even so... "It can't be done, Julius."

Silence.

"It can't be done," he repeated, turning back to negotiate the point. "And I have no reason to trust you, _or_ your ragtag group of Super Best Friends. Now that the Key is back in play and all the Waymarkers have been gathered, it's only a matter of days until Bisley's finished his preparations."

"What about _this_ one?" Julius asked, reached into a pocket, and placed a small, gleaming device onto the table. It was spherical, a tiny ball of light surrounded by orbiting wheels of gears.

Rideaux knew a Waymarker when he saw one. He was fast, but Julius better prepared; Rideaux cursed at the heavy fist that crunched down across his knuckles when he made a darting attempt to grab the thing. "I don't think so," Julius smiled that warning smile he had, something else about him that Rideaux knew all too well.

Withdrawing his fingers gingerly, Rideaux glowered in ill-disguised astonishment. "How did you get that?"

For once, Julius actually looked passing pleased with himself. "It isn't Ludger's fault if I took him by surprise and overpowered him, is it? With just one Waymarker missing, Bisley can't go ahead. He'll either hunt me, or try to replace it from another fractured dimension. Either way, it buys us some time."

_Unless **I **go and betray you right now_. Rideaux watched in more thoughtful silence as Julius pocketed the Waymarker once more, and instead pulled out a GHS. This he slid across the table for Rideaux to take. It looked to be a standard model, the sort given to just about any Spirius employee. Even Ivar had one, not that Rideaux had ever seen him use it.

"They can't track you on that," Julius said, and Rideaux found himself grudgingly remembering that Julius was the one who had developed GHS technology. "Think about it, Rideaux, and contact me when you've made up your mind. If you want nothing to do with this then fine. I won't ask you again. And I won't ask you to keep Bisley out of it—if you say no, I'll assume you've told him everything."

A perfectly reasonable assumption. Which did nothing to explain why it bothered Rideaux so much to hear Julius come right out and say it.

"Only an idiot would agree to this," Rideaux sighed, swallowing down the strange feeling and nonetheless pocketing the untraceable GHS. Such a rudimentary device, much worse than his current model. Would it even take pictures? He resolved to check later.

"Just let me know."

It was the last thing Julius said before he shuffled free from the table and stood. Rideaux watched, surprised to find himself hoping for one last sign from Julius, one last clue to explain how they'd reached this strange juncture of dangerous choices. Instead Julius nodded, turned, and marched from the room. Rideaux could hear the heavy tenor of his voice for a minute before everything went quiet outside. They'd left.

And he was still alive. Still alive, and quite a bit more knowledgeable than when the day had begun. All he had to do now was...

"_Damn_ you, Julius," Rideaux growled, and finally retrieved his drink.

* * *

That was where Ivar found him, perched on his barstool next to a drained bottle and a two glasses of melting ice.

"Uh, Mr. Director, sir?"

Now there was a questioning tone. "Do you have a problem, _Junior Agent_?" Rideaux glanced, sharp enough to cut, and then rolled his eyes at Ivar's predictable flinch. Hopeless. "Sit down, Ivar."

"Uh..." Was all Ivar said, again, but at least he did as he was told. The kid was old enough to drink—old enough to do anything, at least on paper—but he still gave the impression that he'd never set foot in an adult establishment in his entire mediocre life. On a different day Rideaux might have found it amusing. Now, he simply looked Ivar up and down, considering his options. Could he really trust this idiot not to give everything away?

On the other hand, would anyone ever _really_ think to question _this_ one? Rideaux thought not.

"You're an agent of Spirius," Rideaux said, and Ivar straightened in recognition of his professional tone. _Good_. "And _I_ am the Director of the Department of Dimensional Affairs. So you do as I say. Understand?"

"Of course, sir." If nothing else, Ivar had always been good at this part. He seemed to enjoy taking orders, frankly just a little bit too much—Maxwell most likely to blame for _that_ little quirk.

Rideaux propped one thin elbow on the bar and smiled, waiting for the precise moment where the silence had drawn on too long and Ivar had begun to squirm in discomfort before taking mercy and speaking again. "We weren't here today. You were not here. I was not here. Most importantly, Julius was not here."

Ivar nodded, even while he seemed to be mulling the words over with whatever limited brain power he possessed. "Not here. Got it." Then, nervously, "Are we in trouble?"

"Only if you go repeating things you shouldn't." Looking to the bottom of his glass, and the faint dark swirls left in the ice water, Rideaux murmured, "A great deal of trouble indeed."

* * *

Rideaux's apartment was, first and foremost, vastly superior to Julius's. Dazzlingly metropolitan, it was only the lack of a balcony that kept it from being at the very top end of Triglyph's property market, which suited Rideaux just fine. He had no interest whatsoever in gazing out on this miserable city and its miserable inhabitants, and the less anyone else could see of _his_ privacy the happier he was. Even _Rideaux's_ ostentatiousness had a limit, and that limit was having the freedom to glower at trashy soap opera reruns from beneath an over-large duvet and not have the threat of anyone ever being able to witness it.

He'd seen this episode several times before, which was just as well, because he couldn't have paid better attention even if he'd wanted to. Instead he'd taken to flipping through the GHS that Julius had bestowed upon him, a halfway distraction from the problem at hand.

There wasn't very much of interest. Julius hadn't left him any messages, obvious _or_ concealed, and by all counts it did seem to be nothing more than a typical standard issue. Completely boring, honestly, and Rideaux might have tossed the thing away if it wasn't for the realisation that Julius _had_ taken the time to install a few apps before handing it over. The first, and easily the most important, seemed to be specifically for snapping pictures. That kept him occupied for close to an hour, first making sure to christen the device with a worthy first selfie, then taking the time to set himself an acceptable new wallpaper. It was hardly the best he'd ever looked, but considering the day he'd had Rideaux decided it looked pretty damn good. In fact, given the circumstances, he was positively enticing. Satisfied, he moved on.

Next was something far more dull, a simple map reader with a space to input co-ordinates. Standard, and particularly useful for anyone assigned to enter a fractured dimension. Rideaux flicked past it, and the next one too; a basic calender and note-taking system.

"Boring me now..." he muttered, all petulance, before stopping at the last one. It was represented as a paw – a familiar one at that, creamy white and large. Curious despite himself, Rideaux clicked.

It took a moment for him to understand what the flickering across his screen was supposed to represent. A feather, waved back and forth. Some quick experimentation soon changed the image to that of a particularly persistent insect with an annoying drone that sounded curiously like Ivar's prattling to Rideaux's ears. The final option seemed to be a mouse, darting back and forth in digital terror. A toy, then. Playtime for the fat cat, the furry lard ball who looked as though he hadn't so much as _glanced_ at prey in his short obese life.

Not for the first time, Rideaux wondered what it would be like to have other people to bestow such inane efforts upon.

"You poor, sad bastard," he said, and made up his mind.

When Julius's text reply arrived, it was terse.

'Next time you have something to tell me, use words. No more snapchat.'

A second message followed the first, less than a minute later.

'Thank you.'


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm busy right now," Rideaux snapped, flicking his GHS shut with an artful twist of the wrist. _Agents_, always agents badgering him with the most worthless trivial things. Could they not tie their own shoelaces without him guiding them through the motions? They were embarrassing, the whole pack of them, and right now he could not possibly care less about dealing with their problems. If anything urgently required him, Vera would make sure to tell him all about it.

Relieved of whatever idle obligation the agent had been trying to foist on him, Rideaux sat back in his luxurious office chair and resumed the much more important task of... well. That was the problem, wasn't it.

Less than twelve hours after stupidly agreeing to Julius's nonsense quest, Rideaux was already running out of ideas.

"And what else did you expect?" He muttered churlishly to himself, gloved fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the tabletop of his polished desk. What else indeed? He was trying to find a means to neutralise the effects of Chromatus overuse. Fine. Countless others had already tried the very same thing, and each attempt had ended in miserable failure. Julius might have offered up an uncharacteristic amount of optimism, but that didn't mean a great deal without any _clues_ to go along with it. He may as well have asked Rideaux to refill Lake Epsilla by hand. Maybe it _could_ be done, but without some unforeseen breakthrough it was more likely to take centuries than the weeks or days they had available.

It was an impossible task, one he never should have agreed to, and the scope of it had driven him to a fit of melancholy inaction. Rideaux Zek Rugievit was thoroughly stumped.

According to Maxwell, Julius valued his knowledge. It was a charming thought, but a fruitless one — if Julius thought Rideaux knew some detail that _he_ didn't then he was barking up entirely the wrong tree. So what, then? What was it that Julius thought _he_ could do that no one else could...?

_The first thing I have to do is limit the field_. Rideaux narrowed his eyes in contemplation before reaching to pull a sheet of clean paper from within a desk drawer and grabbing the nearest pen. These he stared at for a few seconds before tossing the idea entirely and instead pulling out the old GHS Julius had been so kind to bestow on him. If he was going to make physical evidence, better to keep it all in one easily disposable place. Rideaux clicked open the notepad app and began typing.

To anyone outside of Spirius, the text would look like some opaque code. To anyone familiar with floor sixty-six, however...

He had just about finished his list when a familiar rap of knuckles sounded against his office door. Satisfied at finally having some forward momentum, as well as this convenient and timely arrival, Rideaux lounged back and called through a lazy admission. He was well aware of who knocked with that particular rhythm, and sure enough, here was Ivar. Even better, here was his midday coffee.

"Close the door," He ordered when Ivar sidled in. If the command came as a surprise Ivar didn't show it—maybe he was going to be better at this conspiratorial business than Rideaux had given him credit for.

Or maybe not. As soon as he'd placed the coffee down — _lukewarm, what a delight_ — Ivar took a proud stance, setting himself directly in front of Rideaux's desk. "Director Rideaux, sir! I, Ivar, Junior Agent of Spirius, have not told a single soul about what happened yesterday."

Perhaps it was a good thing the coffee was so poor. Otherwise he might have already taken a sip, and Ivar's stupidity would likely have made him spit it everywhere. As it was Rideaux still sputtered in a moment of unseemly horror, before regaining his wits enough to snap. "What is the _matter_ with you?" Rideaux lowered his voice to a hiss as he continued, paying no mind to the way Ivar physically jumped at his irritation. "Do you have _any_ sense? Do you have a brain at all?"

"I did as you said!" Ivar fired back defensively, arms still raised as if to protect his worthless empty head. When Rideaux continued to glare he finally lowered them, instead jabbing a thumb toward his out-thrust chest. "As former handmaiden to Lady Milla herself, I know a thing or two about keeping secrets. You can count on it!"

"If you could try knowing a thing or two about _keeping your voice down_, that would be _wonderful_." Rideaux finally took a mouthful of ill-sweetened coffee, a perfect complement to the dissatisfaction of having Ivar as an accomplice. _How did it come to this?_ "In fact, my little Junior Agent, why don't you make a project of it? If we're both still alive in two weeks I'll give you a passing grade."

Ivar was stupid, but not completely oblivious. Rideaux could see the insults sinking in, and beneath that the bubbling stew of questions forming. Questions he didn't particularly feel like answering right now. Sighing, Rideaux stood.

"Listen. All I need from you — the one simple little thing? Is _blind obedience_. No questions. No comments. Nothing at all unless I say so. Is that clear?"

That wounded him too. Rideaux watched with distant amusement as the emotions rose and then sank in Ivar's eyes. The poor thing. How had he gotten this far in life believing his feelings were actually important to anyone? Even Maxwell had ditched him the first chance she got.

_That's life, kid. Get used to it._

"Loud and clear, sir," came the answer, with only the faintest downtrodden wobble. Good.

"That's the spirit. Now, come on. I have work for you." 

* * *

The sixty-sixth floor of the main Spirius Corporation headquarters was just about one of Rideaux's least favourite places to be. Sprawlingly vast and miserably drab, the entire floor was dedicated to row upon row of meticulously detailed archives. Scaling ladders and digging through shelves, justifying oneself to the pompous agent-archivists left in charge? Psh. It was all well beneath his station. This was precisely the sort of work he would usually delegate. Under regular circumstances he would have done so today.

Regular circumstances. _Hah_. Now there was something he never expected to miss.

As it was, Rideaux flicked through the folder in his hands in quick assessment, teetering just slightly from his precarious ladder-topped position. Yes, this looked about right. Not as encouraging as some of the materials he'd found, but certainly worth taking along. With a satisfied hum of approval, he tucked the folder under one arm and slid down the ladder with now practised ease.

"And..." Rideaux paused his announcement, casting a dour eye over the wavering stack of papers Ivar had become. Hm. "Let's just start with these, shall we?"

With a sweet smile he placed File 47B-F141.12 delicately atop the pile. At first Ivar had tried to offer hints of his discomfort. After that he'd begun to openly complain. Now it seemed like all he could manage was a dismayed grunt. Rideaux found he much preferred it this way. "Come along, we're heading back."

With a sad sound that must have been an affirmative, Ivar followed.

Strolling through the steel grey aisles, Rideaux couldn't decide if he was feeling nostalgic or just plain _old. _There were hundreds of files here — thousands, really — and far too many of them contained his own handwriting. Some were close to fifteen years old, time when someone had decided he and Julius were old enough to write their own documentation instead of simply passing the details off for someone else to organise.

Back then he'd been deeply resentful of Julius's stiff blockish handwriting. His own had barely been legible by contrast, an all-too-obvious sign that he'd begun reading and writing far later than most of those working for Spirius. Not too surprising, really. That was the difference between people like him and those born with silver spoons in their mouths. _All __**I **__got was a pocketwatch and a world of trouble._

At least typing had come much easier — he'd caught up in _that_ field with only the most basic of tutelage. But back then, when he was cursing and sweating over some written report or another, it had been Julius who...

_Hmph_. Now he really _was_ being nostalgic, and in all the wrong ways. It didn't matter any more — in fact, it never had.

Even so, when it came time to check themselves out of the archive, Rideaux took pleasure in signing his name with particular flourish. Yet another aspect of his past neatly left to rot. Quickly scribbling a similar note under Ivar's name, Ivar being too laden to do so himself, Rideaux was feeling quite pleased with himself when the inevitable trouble began.

"Director Rideaux, sir. You do realise that you can only check out four reports at any given time. Don't you?"

_Oh **good**._ Why couldn't something go right for once?

Rideaux looked first to the man questioning him — an agent-archivist thirty-something with hair already thinning — and then to Ivar, still struggling beneath the weight of what was clearly far too many documents. No, he hadn't realised that. He'd never had reason to do this. Rideaux smiled.

"Actually, this is only some of what I'll be taking today. I'll be back to collect the rest shortly." Ignoring the groan of dismay Ivar issued from somewhere behind the pile, Rideaux's smile thinned to an edge. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Spirius didn't have many dedicated archivists. Floor sixty-six was loaded with classified information, and that meant only those already involved with the Kresnik Clan would be admitted here in the first place. There were very few exceptions this far up the building. What that unfortunately meant was any injured or otherwise incapacitated field agents found themselves relegated to archive work, a downgrade that tended to make them rather... surly.

The agent-archivist gave them a sour look, looking rather like he was sucking a sea urchin. "With all respect, sir, I'm afraid I can't authorise that."

_Oh, the many-fold privileges of being Director._ "And what would happen if I were to, say, simply do it _anyway_?"

"That..." The agent-archivist frowned, sweeping his gaze back and forth as though expecting some miraculous assistance to appear at any moment. Rideaux simply waited, smile still in place, quite practised in the art of being at once genial and threatening. Sweat was beginning to bead on the poor archivists brow, but to Rideaux's vast annoyance the man sat up straighter and puffed out his chest with indignant pride. "I'm sorry, sir. If you were to do that I would have to report you."

And who else could you report to about the Director of the DODA breaching protocol except Bisley himself? _Damn it all_.

Almost as though he were reading Rideaux's mind, the agent-archivist hurriedly added, "Unless you were to obtain special permissions, of course."

"Of course." And what explanation would he offer Bakur when asking for such permissions? _Yes, Mr. President, I just need to borrow these documents so I can do some research for Julius. Yes, that's right, wanted terrorist Julius Will Kresnik, the man you set up. The one who, by the way, just stole a Waymarker and scuppered your plans, did you hear about that yet? Sorry for not mentioning all this sooner, I was a little anxious you might **murder me**._

Wonderful.

"Ivar, we're done here." Rideaux snapped his fingers, turning away from the agent-archivist and instead back to his swaying assistant. "You can leave those where they are."

"Right here? I don't have to put them back?" Somehow Ivar managed to peer around the teetering stack, eyes gleaming with kindled hope.

"Right here is just fine," Rideaux cooed indulgently, brightly ignoring the alarmed protests of their overzealous new friend. Even petty revenge had its merits. Waving a cheerful goodbye Rideaux ushered Ivar around the pile of discarded folders and out of the cavernous room, not the least bit sorry for the bureaucratic headache they'd left in their wake.

Not until they'd crossed the hallway and safely entered the elevator did Rideaux allow himself to vent an infuriated sigh. Ivar edged to the other side of the confined space and, for once, had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

That was a lot of useful knowledge they'd gathered together, and they'd left it all behind. Worse still, that interfering busybody of an archivist might very well decide to notify Bisley _anyway_, which meant he had to string together some flimsy justification. Yet more work on top of everything else.

Frustrated, Rideaux forced himself to consider the options. First, and most important: he _needed_ that information, and soon. Yes he could obey the rules, book the documentation out four pieces at a time and make individual copies to work from. It might take him a month, perhaps three weeks. And in the mean time little Elle would become some fractured puff of nothingness.

Somehow he couldn't imagine Julius agreeing to that course of action.

So what else. Take pictures, store them on his GHS? Maybe for a few, but it would be a nightmare to work from. He needed hard copies, ones he could highlight and cross-reference and and compile into something tangible, something that would help him figure out an _answer_.

There was no way around it. He needed those files.

… Or ones very much like them. So.

"Marvellous," Rideaux muttered, rolled his eyes, and pulled out the GHS.

When they reached his office a few minutes later, Vera was standing at the door. Rideaux, spotting her far too late to avoid contact, nonetheless slowed his impatient pace to a more leisurely stroll, buying himself a precious few milliseconds to think and compose himself.

"Director Rideaux." She turned to face him as he approached, clipboard tucked across her body in a familiar pose. Rideaux came to a gentle halt before her—Ivar, the moron, jolted to an abrupt and terrified halt. Seemingly unperturbed, she continued. "President Bakur would like to see you immediately."

Vera, Bisley's personal secretary. She didn't seem the sort to report every veiled hint of gossip that passed her by, and that was precisely why Bakur liked her. Mind still racing, Rideaux eased himself into an expression of faux-indolence. That was what she'd expect from him, after all. "Does he now? Tell our Mr. President that I'll be right along."

"Don't keep him waiting," She replied in that clipped voice of hers. "It's a matter of some importance."

With that she turned on one smartly dressed heel and walked away, the professional tap of her shoes beating out the rhythm of her departure. Ivar watched with an expression of deep dismay. "_Crap_," He winced, at least keeping his voice low. "Now we're in for it. We shouldn't have left that mess there." With a hint of reproach he added, "I did warn you, sir."

"First, don't group me in with you. Second, you did no such thing, boy." And third, Bisley Bakur had bigger fish to fry, and it was too soon to be related to their little archive adventure anyway. Rideaux wiped one gloved hand over his face and tried very hard not to swear, suddenly extremely reluctant to make a move.

Last night he had agreed to this farce. Today he'd even made some cursory efforts to keep his word. Now, once and for all, he was going to have to commit.

Or not.

"Get in here," He snapped, motioning Ivar ahead of him and firmly shutting the office door once they were both within. When was the last time he'd had to think so fast? Rideaux brought a hand to his chin, tapping a finger against his cheek as he paced back and forth, a sudden flurry of contemplative motion. Ivar watched, eyes wide with that same dismay from before.

"We are in trouble. I knew it."

"I already told you, don't group yourself in with me." _You'll have a much better chance of surviving that way_. Not that he was about to say such a thing out loud. The last thing he needed was for Ivar to misunderstand and, ugh, think Rideaux actually _cared_. "Shut up and come here."

Ivar shuffled closer, clearly assuming the worst. "I'll be back for to collect this later, unless things go poorly for me. Which they very well might. If so..." Rideaux reached into his blazer pocket, pulled out the untraceable GHS and pressed it into Ivar's palm. "Destroy this. Forget you ever saw it."

"Got it." Ivar gave a resolute nod before stashing the GHS somewhere in the folds of that ridiculous sash he wore at his waist. It wasn't the most satisfactory means of concealing evidence, but it was all he had available. Rideaux nodded, and was just about to leave when Ivar spoke up again. "How do I know when to ditch it?"

"_Destroy_ it, I said. And use your best judgement." _It can't possibly be any worse than mine_. With one last silent curse to whatever unlucky star he was born under, Rideaux stepped through the door and made his way to the office of President Bisley Bakur.


	3. Chapter 3

Only one person could be contacting him on this line. Flicking the GHS to loudspeaker, Rideaux clicked to accept the call and then tossed the GHS to one side of his faux-leather couch. "You," he growled, loud enough to be heard, "Have no idea what I've been through today."

Not the most conventional means of communication, but it was all Julius deserved from him. Rideaux lounged back on the opposite side of the couch, long legs crossed and propped comfortably on the low coffee table. Perhaps resting his heels on the surface was ill-advised, but right then it was very hard to care.

He'd been home for less than an hour—long enough to shed his jacket, gloves and boa, and long enough to make arrangements for dinner, little enough time for anything else. A shower would have been the next step, followed by fixing himself something hard to drink. Instead he had Julius to deal with.

"Is that right?" Came the distinctly unconcerned reply, Julius's voice slightly muffled against a cushion. Rideaux glowered at where the GHS had landed before reluctantly leaning over and placing it face up on the coffee table. Next to his feet, right where Julius belonged.

"Yes, it is. Thank you _so_ much for getting me mixed up in this." It was probably a good thing they were having this conversation remotely—the urge to punch Julius's face was almost overwhelming. "If I die before you do, I will make your life _miserable_, Julius. I will haunt you for the rest of your days."

"You, making me miserable? Doesn't sound like much of a change to me."

Scratch that. The urge to punch Julius's stupid face was _thoroughly_ overwhelming.

Rideaux took a long moment to compose himself, unwilling to give Julius the satisfaction of hearing just how unstrung he was. After a few deep breaths he allowed himself to speak. "What a funny man you are. You and Ivar should start a troupe. My two favourite comedians." Sharper, he continued. "Let me say it again. You have no idea what I've been through today. You think this is difficult for you, but _I'm_ the one who has to field Bakur's questions. Who do you think this is all going to come down on when things go south? Me, that's who."

It was difficult to tell Julius's reaction from the faintly static silence. Rideaux found himself remembering that first recorded message Julius left him—_was that really only yesterday?_—and listened closer for any hint of just where Julius might be. A rural area, judging from the lack of civilised noise. Somewhere in Rieze Maxia? It was impossible to be sure.

"You're right," Julius finally responded, in a voice touched by something that sounded suspiciously like concern. Rideaux sat up a little straighter, staring at the GHS as though trying to identify an imposter. "I'm sorry, Rideaux. I wasn't trying to endanger you. Tell me what happened today."

Under different circumstances Rideaux might have resented Julius telling him what to do. So dumbfounded to have received an apology at all, much less one that sounded _sincere_, Rideaux instead counted himself grateful for such a convenient and pressing distraction. He took a moment to clear his throat and regain some much needed composure.

"Bakur is what happened today." Settling into comfort once more, Rideaux hitched one arm over the back of the couch and rested the other casually across his lap. Home, safe, talking to Julius—he was finally starting to relax. "Bisley had a few choice words for me, as I'm sure you can imagine. The prodigal son was there too."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Are you talking about Ludger?" Julius practically growled the question, voice low and rough around the edges. Whatever relative of concern had lingered in his voice before was amplified tenfold now, a mean edge grafted to his tone. Rideaux sneered, rolled his eyes and waved a rude gesture in the direction of Julius's irritating voice. Trust Julius to put things right back into perspective.

And to think he'd almost felt valued for a second there. More fool him.

"Yes, I'm talking about Ludger." Rideaux took a long moment to draw his breath, taking private pleasure in making Julius wait. "Give him a few more years under Spirius and I think he'll be quite the accomplished little liar. He was hardly suspicious at all. I don't think Bisley noticed anything. Then again no one has a poker face quite like our dear President, so who can possibly say? I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

This time Julius's response was muffled. "That's not the life I want for him."

"Well, too bad. Now shut up and let me tell you what happened."

Mercifully, Julius did as told.

"Ludger was already there when I arrived. If you want to know what Bisley said to him you'll have to call him and ask, but as far as I can tell they mostly discussed you." Rideaux caught himself smirking. "I can't imagine it was a great deal of fun trying to explain how you'd stolen one of the Waymarkers. Still think this was such a good idea?"

"Get on with it."

_Hah._

"Bisley's splitting our resources into two camps. Ludger is to carry on doing whatever it is he's been doing to pay off that dreadful debt of his." Even through the GHS Rideaux could feel the anger emanating from Julius at _that_ little reminder, and twisted his smirk deeper. "Any fractured dimensions that are discovered will be issued straight to Ludger to deal with. Obviously locating a replacement Waymarker is the highest priority for that division."

Twisting a lock of his hair, Rideaux continued. "The rest of us will be searching for you. To put that another way, _I've_ been placed in charge of your personal manhunt." Inspiration struck. "You should really tell me where it is you're hiding. Wouldn't want to follow the correct trail by mistake, after all."

"I'll tell you when I decide you need to know." Julius's voice was still icy, though Rideaux could hear the weight of consideration behind his words. "Where was Elle?"

"I don't know." In truth he hadn't given it a second thought. "Ludger didn't seem concerned about her absence. I imagine he left her with his little friends. Probably didn't want Bisley asking questions about her little divergence problem."

"Hm." A non-committal sound, and one Rideaux took as agreement.

"Bisley's not happy about this, Julius." The crux of the matter. Rideaux sat forward, arms crossing upon his knees and gaze fixed on the GHS. "He's very... let's say, _disappointed_ in you, and not much happier with me. Lucky little Ludger gets a free pass because he's so convenient, but you and I? If our days weren't _already_ numbered I think it would be fair to say this little stunt of yours has sealed the deal."

"Unless you turn me in," Julius mused in response.

"Correct. You really shouldn't put treacherous ideas into my head—I might just be tempted to act on them." Rideaux would have continued with some further retort had the intercom not buzzed. Instead, delighted, he rose to his feet. "Ah! Dinner has arrived."

"_Dinner_?" Julius couldn't have sounded more affronted; Rideaux's grin broadened. "Are you— have you _ordered food? Now_?"

"I have. That's just _one_ of the privileges of not being a wanted terrorist, you know. Now be quiet for a few minutes, unless you _want_ someone to overhear you."

For the second time in quick succession, Julius did as he was told. Rideaux found he was starting to enjoy this very much, and took his time about crossing to the intercom and granting access for the food to be brought up. Time passed in tender silence—Rideaux leaned back against the doorframe and wondered just what sort of lowly fare Julius had been reduced to eating in these past weeks. Perhaps he'd taken to hunting his own meals? Just the thought was enough to have him suppressing laughter.

Then again, maybe Julius had been hiding across fractured dimensions. Depending on just how wily he was willing to be, Julius might have been living very comfortably that way, making himself welcome in some backwards dimension before destroying it and moving on to another. It would certainly be the perfect way to cover his tracks. Silently Rideaux tucked that particular thought away for future reference.

Then his food arrived, delivered by an awestruck looking teenager who had clearly never seen such wealth in his short life. Rideaux tipped generously, mostly for the sheer pleasure of being able to afford doing so. Only after the boy had disappeared back into the elevator, bright-eyed and reeling, did Rideaux shut the door and return to his grudging audience of one.

"I'm not going to listen to you eat," Julius immediately snapped, with much more impatience than Rideaux had expected. If he'd realised this was going to ruffle Julius's feathers so much he would have ordered a whole banquet.

"Well I'm not going to wait, so you had best finish this conversation quickly, hadn't you?" Rideaux punctuated the point by audibly snapping open the container. "I have sushi, by the way. In case you were wondering."

"You had sushi delivered? That sounds disgusting."

"No one asked your opinion. And you're wrong. _And, _most importantly, I deserve it." Rideaux popped a salmon roll into his mouth, then continued speaking around the mouthful of rice and fish. "Anyway. As entertaining as all this Bisley talk is, I had a different reason for contacting you earlier."

He could almost hear Julius's teeth grinding irritation at the sounds of him eating. For once, Rideaux could entirely understand his frustration—bad table manners really _were_ inexcusable. But for the sake of annoying Julius? It was a social sacrifice he was willing to make.

"You see," Rideaux continued, "There's a little something I _need_."

* * *

Two days later, Rideaux found himself standing within a copse of barren trees on the outskirts of the Helioborg Research Station, desperately trying to stay warm. Of all the days for there to be a cold spike, it had to be _this_ one. Rideaux ducked his chin lower, trying to seek warmth in the fur of his scarf while somehow maintaining his personal dignity.

It wasn't working.

He'd received the message almost two hours ago, detailing co-ordinates of where to meet and confirming they wouldn't have long if they wanted to make this work. That had given Rideaux enough time to feed Ivar a good cover story, have him repeat it five times, and make his way over here. The first to arrive, naturally. Typical Julius to keep him waiting, and typical Ludger not to show up anywhere his precious big brother hadn't been first.

There were monsters about, all the typical creatures one would expect to be roaming around this close to civilisation. None of them would prove a threat to him, but an attack would certainly be annoying. Rideaux took a moment to feel inside his jacket, fingers running with bitter familiarity over the watch he stowed there. He didn't like to use his Chromatus unless he had to, but some part of him _did_ enjoy the idea that his watch exuded a certain something that kept wiser beasts at bay. Of course, the Holy Bottle he'd been sure to douse under a splash of expensive cologne was probably helping as well.

Now he just had to avoid _freezing_ to death. Why anyone would ever be willing to leave the populated regions of Elympios was entirely beyond him. Never even mind the lunatics choosing to cross at Marksburg and start new lives in that technological backwater Rieze Maxia. People could be such idiots.

And speaking of... Rideaux straightened at the approach of Ludger and a handful of his jolly companions, making a conscious effort to suppress the shivers that threatened to overwhelm him. Ludger himself, little Elle and dopey Rollo, the reporter girl, Jude Mathis, and...

"Yo," the businessman drawled in lazy greeting, one hand cocked in some vague simile of a salute. The girl waved, smiling bright enthusiasm. Ludger looked rather less pleased to see him, and Elle was wearing what had become a customary glower. Her eyes were red-rimmed, Rideaux noticed—either she wasn't sleeping, or something had been making her cry. Maybe both. Children could be such a hassle.

"Hello, Rideaux," was of course Jude's greeting, and Rideaux couldn't help but smile to hear the respectful tone. Oh, no doubt it was completely insincere, but it was amusing to watch them try to pretend they didn't hate him.

"Good morning, Dr. Mathis," Rideaux returned, making no effort whatsoever to keep the sarcasm from his own voice. "How lovely it is to see you all again. Isn't it nice when we can meet out in the open like this? Much better than, oh, say... tricking me into meeting you unarmed and then surrounding me. Don't you think?"

Only Miss Reporter had the decency to look at all ashamed. "Yeaaah, um... sorry about that?" Then she thrust a hand in his direction, pushing forward with an overload of cheery enthusiasm. "I don't think I've ever introduced myself. You're Mr. Rideaux, Director of the Department of Dimensional Affairs, and _I'm_ Leia Rolando, junior reporter for the Daily Trigleph. Maybe we could arrange a special interview sometime?"

The businessman scoffed under his breath. "Anything to get the next big scoop, huh?"

"Alvin, shh!" She hissed back, smile somehow never wavering. Rideaux stared in sterile distaste for a long moment... but demeaned himself long enough to shake her hand. Assuming he somehow survived all this, an interview about his recent promotion would at least be an entertaining afternoon. His silly little fanclub would be delighted.

Then he straightened, glancing around the group. If introductions were going to be the order of the day, then it was time to do so on his own terms.

"So, Leia. And you..." Rideaux turned his smiling gaze to the man who'd just spoken. "You're a Svent. I've heard of you_, _you know. I used to have quite a few contacts in Exodus, back in the day." _And still do, not that you need to know it. _

Alvin's expression had, to Rideaux's pleasure, hardened considerably. Even so, he managed to respond with the same flippancy as before, still maintaining his greasy smile. "Is that right? Maybe those contacts told you I'm on the straight and narrow now. Hope you're not disappointed."

"Oh, not at all. They're a bunch of clowns. You're better off without them." All entirely true. This time Alvin's expression remained steady. A shame—Rideaux would have liked more to work with. _Oh well._ "So you're Alvin. Or Alfred, according to some. That's terribly confusing, you know." Rideaux mustered his sweetest smile and took a stab in the dark. "I'll just call you Al."

Something about _that_ hit a nerve. Alvin's brow knotted immediately—Leia's hands shot up to cover her mouth, and even Jude looked taken aback. Only Ludger and Elle seemed oblivious to whatever implication the other three had pulled from such a statement. Rideaux gave himself an internal round of applause—years of competition with Julius had given him good instincts on just what _not_ to say, and it seemed like he'd struck gold yet again.

But then, unexpectedly, Alvin smiled, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of affected embarrassment. "Well well, I didn't realise we were on nickname terms already. You move fast, Riddles."

Unprepared, Rideaux found himself stuck in a moment of frozen disgust. He stared, aghast.

"Riddles!" Leia exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. Even red-eyed Elle was cracking a smile. "That's so good!"

"It is _not—_" Rideaux attempted to interject, but too late to stop the two girls from catching one another's eye and breaking into peels of childish laughter. Alvin Svent, the cocky little weasel, was looking awfully pleased with himself, and Ludger, watching Elle, looked equally thrilled.

If it had been in Rideaux's power to spit poison, he would have. Instead he turned a patronising eye to Jude, who looked as though he wanted to speak.

Sure enough, with an apologetic wince; "He prefers to go by Alvin."

"Duly noted."

The damn idiots still hadn't stopped laughing when Ludger suddenly looked around, some disgusting brotherly sixth sense alerting him before anyone else. "Julius," was all he said.

Sure enough, approaching through the thin withered trees, was Julius. Rideaux folded his arms—at least partly for the additional warmth it offered—and watched him with a critical eye.

Not that there was much to see. Julius conducted himself with typical stoic grace, striding through the undergrowth as though he were attending some very high-minded company picnic. If his own catalyst issue was causing him any difficulty then he certainly wasn't showing it—trying to spare Ludger's delicate feelings, no doubt. Rideaux frowned, not sure whether to be impressed or infuriated. Just how far gone was he? And was he still using his Chromatus?

_He's going to today. He won't have a choice._

For some unfathomable reason the thought made Rideaux uncomfortable.

"I'm glad to see you're all getting along so well," Julius said as he reached them, pulling smiles from almost everyone present. Rideaux made sure to huff disapproval, not willing to go unheard in the crowd. Naturally, Julius ignored him. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

"Are you okay?" Ludger replied, his voice caught between concerned and wary. Rideaux stepped back for a moment, not particularly interested in the finer details of cloying brotherly love, and listened peripherally to their exchange. For every question Ludger asked, Julius had some kind of placating non-answer to give—Rideaux rolled his eyes at the transparency of it all, and even little Elle didn't look impressed.

The fact that she was even here came as something of a surprise. Rideaux, still politely waiting for the family politics to subside, found himself staring at her. There was something bothering him, something that had been bothering him for a while now. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Looking at her here, with that sprawling darkened patch of skin inching out from beneath her collar, he found himself thinking back...

"_Rideaux_."

Julius's stern voice cut across his thoughts, drawing him out of his reverie of contemplation. Irritated, Rideaux unfolded his arms and mimicked Julius's tone. "_What_?"

The dull annoyance on Julius's face suggested he had no interest in repeating whatever it was he'd just said. Ever the peacekeeper, Jude Mathis stepped forward and picked up the thread of conversation. "Julius was hoping you could explain the plan to us. What is it you need us to do?"

Finally, a chance to make these ingrates listen to _him_. Rideaux smiled, sketching a light bow in the direction of their assembled group. "Of course. 'The plan'. Listen closely, my dear idiots. I don't want to have to explain this twice."

Ignoring the glower Julius gave at that, Rideaux began.

"There are some documents I need from the Spirius archives. I have a list here of exactly which ones, and don't skip any if you value the girl's life." He passed a sheet of paper across to Jude, then settled into a terse explanation of the rules governing Spirius Corporation's sixty-sixth floor, specifically the four document rule. "So as you can see, I'm unable to collect them myself without drawing unwanted attention. That's where you all come in."

Rideaux graced Ludger with a smile. "Actually, _you're _the important player in today's little game. First, we enter the fractured dimension. Once there, Julius and I will kindly eliminate the divergence catalyst. The rest of you will be assisting our Key of Kresnik here in entering Spirius and retrieving my list of items to bring back here. Once both tasks are complete we'll stage a little rendezvous, exchange goods, and go our respective ways. Simple but brilliant."

"The Key?" Blurted a young startled voice. Rideaux raised one quizzical brow at Elle. She in turn stared around at the assembled adults like a cornered alley rat, eyes nervous and wide.

"He means Ludger," Julius replied gently. Rideaux narrowed his eyes, watching the protective interplay of Ludger placing a protective hand on her shoulder, giving a soft reassuring squeeze.

_Of course I mean Ludger. Has the girl not been paying **any** attention until now?_

Except no, that wasn't it. Julius had been weird about this too, when he'd first explained this plan over GHS. Something else was going on here. That frustrated feeling was back, the sense he was missing something terribly obvious.

Julius was _definitely _keeping something from him.

"Once we enter the fractured dimension, Rideaux and I will take your GHS along with us," Julius continued, speaking directly to Ludger. "That way, anyone at Spirius using it to track your movements will only see that you're doing your job, hunting and eliminating the catalyst. _Your_ task is still dangerous, though; perhaps even more dangerous than ours. Keep your wits about you. Use espionage if you can—don't try to make this a fight. Walk in, gather the documents, and smuggle them out."

"Easier said than done," Alvin said, running a hand through his hair with a shrug. "Do you think they'll even let us all in? Ludger maybe, but the rest of us kind of stick out in a crowd."

"We'll find a way." Ludger's voice was firm, and once again Rideaux found himself grimacing at the familiar hint of Julius that sometimes swam up in Ludger's eyes. Revolted, he shifted his weight and nodded in Elle's direction, determined not to let this confusing mystery go unchallenged.

"Explain something to me. Why are you bringing her along? I thought the whole point of this little exercise was to prevent her becoming a catalyst. Why, then, continue exposing her to danger? Are you _really_ unable to access the power of your Chromatus without channelling it through her? How pitiful."

It was Ludger he'd been speaking to, and Julius he expected a response from. Instead Elle stamped forward, planting herself squarely in front of him and glaring up with all the petulant fire an eight-year-old could possibly muster. "Nobody asked for your opinion, Riddles."

_Alvin Svent, I am going to murder you in your sleep._ No, that would be too _kind_ an end. He'd have to devise something much more meticulous and excruciating. Rideaux folded his knees, crouching almost into the dirt to bring himself level with the little eyesore of a child.

"My dear girl, as your designated medical professional I do believe you should adhere to my advice." Her lower lip still jutted out in childish bravado, but Rideaux felt the satisfied glow of knowing his words had confused her. He smiled serenely. "Was that too much? In simple terms, I'm your doctor and you are very, very sick. Go home, if you even have one."

She punched him. She _punched_ him, her tiny grubby fingers balled into an ineffectual fist, and Rideaux was so astonished that he very nearly lost his balance in an undignified flurry of windmilling arms. At the last moment he caught himself, and by then Elle had burst into bawling sobs and thrown herself into Ludger's protective embrace. If she thought _that_ was going to save her from his wrath then— Rideaux begun to rise, lip curled into a retaliatory snarl, then jolted to a forced halt. Julius gripped his upper arm tightly, tugging him back to his feet in a gesture half assistance and half restraint.

"You really are impossible, you know that?" Julius hissed at him, voice low enough to keep the sentiment private.

"Oh darling, you flatter me," Rideaux cooed in turn, smirking at Julius's disgust, before raising his voice and bowing his head in faux-apology. "Clearly I spoke out of turn. Forgive me."

Ludger merely glared. Elle didn't respond at all, face still buried in Ludger's accommodating shoulder, and even Miss Optimism and Mathis Jr. didn't seem willing to give him any leeway. _Always so popular, aren't we?_

Touching gloved fingers to the faintly warm spot where Elle had struck him, Rideaux considered what it was he must have said to anger her, and smiled. "So you're an orphan, is that it? Don't be so sad. Plenty of us turn out just fine. Look at precious Ludger, for example. He counts—right, Julius?"

_Now_ he was treading on thin ice—the way Julius's fingers tightened around his arm was proof enough of that. Rideaux smirked despite the discomfort, but ducked his head further and kept his mouth shut. Whatever this terribly amusing drama with Elle was all about, it didn't _really _interest him. Ludger, distracted by Elle and dumb as a post at the best of times, didn't seem to catch the hint regardless. _Oh Julius, you really are blessed to have such an idiot for a brother_.

In the end it was Leia who managed to calm Elle down, and not in a manner Rideaux appreciated.

"You've wanted to do that for a long time, huh?" She asked, gently turning Elle to face her and offering a sunny, sympathetic smile. Runny nosed and miserable, Elle nonetheless managed a tentative little smirk as she nodded.

"Uh-huh. I hope he has to wear the stupid glasses again."

_Not much chance of that, brat_, Rideaux privately grated, but settled for crossing his arms. A feat not made any easier by Julius's insistence on keeping a firm grip on him.

With a saddened hiccup and a look of limitless concern, Elle quietly added, "Daddy always said I shouldn't hit people."

"I think he'd understand, just this once." Leia gave a sage nod, one immediately echoed by the rest of the group. Even the damn cat followed her lead. Not for the first time, Rideaux found himself seriously considering the merits of just killing them all where they stood.

Instead he growled. "Now that we're all agreed that I'm an acceptable punching bag, shall we get on with this?"

Apparently Julius agreed with his desire to press on. "We'll give your group a head start," He told Ludger, in his usual domineering DODA Director voice. _Miss it, huh, Julius?_ "Once you reach Triglyph send us a message and we'll begin the hunt for the catalyst. Then, once you're finished, let us know and we'll eliminate it, bringing us all back to the prime dimension. We'll meet back here. Ludger, if you have _any_ trouble, contact me immediately. Rideaux, give him the GHS I gave you."

Already irritable, Rideaux had hardly been paying attention up to that point. Rudely jerked out of his moody daydreaming, he glared in open-mouthed displeasure for a long moment before snapping, "No. Let them take yours. This is mine." And then, more petulantly than he'd intended, "You _gave_ it to me. You don't take back gifts, Julius. That's basic etiquette. You can be such a boor."

"Uh oh," Alvin leered, "Trouble in paradise?"

Rideaux had had about as much of _Al_ as he could stand. Furious, he snatched the GHS from his pocket and threw it to Jude. Well, more like threw it _at_ him, with quite a bit more _oomph_ than required; annoyingly, Mathis still caught it with comfortable ease. _Oh, right, he's a martial artist. I'll aim for the damned cat next time._

Satisfied and with his typical unflappable air, Julius nodded. "Ludger, give me yours, and use _that_ GHS if you need to contact us. This way, all our contact will be untraceable."

"Mm." Ludger stepped forward and did as Julius said, ever the obedient baby brother. Rideaux was about to comment such when Ludger unexpectedly looked at him, something grim and formal in his eyes. Quietly surprised by the expression, Rideaux stood taller and tilted his head in admittance, letting Ludger speak. "It's none of your business why Elle goes where she does," Ludger's voice was cold, firm and unyielding. "But I'll tell you anyway. She's my partner. She's my partner now, and for as long as she wants to be. We made a promise."

Yet more personal drama. Rideaux merely shrugged and smiled bland acceptance, well aware the words weren't being spoken for _his _sake. Sure enough little Elle rubbed her raw tearful eyes again, but looked up at Ludger when he returned to her side and managed another tentative smile.

_Tch. Morons._

"Are we all ready?" Jude asked, pulling the group back into the present with a murmured buzz of affirmatives. Ludger stepped forward, pocketwatch in hand, preparing to transport them.

"My very first adventure with the do-gooders," Rideaux spoke softly, for Julius's ears only. "Do I get a gold star for playing nicely with the other children?"

"Just try not to make anyone else cry today." Julius shot him a sideways look, just the very faintest spark of sarcastic mirth glinting behind his dark frames. "I believe in you."

"Of course you do," Rideaux smirked back. And then, sudden and sharp, they were gone.


	4. Chapter 4

In theory, giving Ludger and company a generous head start had made plenty of sense. In practice, Rideaux found it was leaving him with far too much time to stand around shivering and thinking. The experience was proving unpleasantly nostalgic.

How many years had it been since he and Julius had last entered a fractured dimension together? A great many, that was certainly true. Closer to ten than five, although Rideaux found he couldn't recall exactly. By that point they'd all but given up working together, instead competing constantly for the dubious honour of Bisley's approval. Julius had proven himself ruthlessly pragmatic, willing to raze whole towns rather than take the time to seek out each individual divergence catalyst. Rideaux had proven himself ruthless in other ways, furthering the distance between them.

Julius's methods had always struck him as inelegant, witless and ugly in their wholesale destruction. Julius, in turn, had accused him of enjoying the process too much, taking too much pleasure in hunting and eliminating one particular target. It wasn't an accusation Rideaux had ever made much effort to deny. If Julius wanted to play the part of the rampaging beast then that was fine with him—he much preferred the more delicate violence that existed between predator and prey.

Which would it be today? Rideaux considered... and then shuddered, as another particularly cold gust of wind picked up. If he had to stand out here much longer it wouldn't _matter_ what they chose to do. He was going to freeze to death. Why was this fractured dimension just as miserably cold as the prime? No, if anything, it seemed even _colder_. Rideaux cast a covert glance at Julius—implacable as always, damn him—before thrusting his hands into the crooks of his elbows and stamping his feet in an attempt to stay warm.

After a few minutes, Julius sighed and stepped forward. "Come on. Let's get going."

Rideaux stopped shifting, turning to frown at this sudden call to action. "No, that isn't the plan. Do you _remember_ the plan? We're supposed to wait here until Ludger and the others arrive in Triglyph. They're going to contact you via GHS." _**My**__ GHS,_ he added in petulant silence. _Remember? The one you gave __**me**__?_

"I know. But I'm tired of watching you freeze. We'll get started now." Julius walked passed him, the ghost of a taunting smile playing on his lips as he set out toward the Helioborg Research Station. "At least this way you won't die of hypothermia before we get anywhere."

Trust Julius to not only notice his shortcomings but to openly point them out. The man had no tact at all. Rideaux bared his teeth in a daggered smile, and tried fruitlessly to ignore the self-conscious spots of colour that insisted on rising in his cheeks. _Damn_ Julius.

* * *

Helioborg Research Station proved to be much the same in this dimension as in the prime. Rideaux gazed up at the eyesore with plain distaste.

Even amidst the dying scenery of Elympios it managed to appear repulsive, jutting out of the wasteland like some putrid geometric fungus. That the building had long since been converted into a scientific research institute did nothing to improve the grim military aesthetic—on the contrary, the mixture of armoured grunts and labcoated intellectuals meandering to-and-fro only heightened the sense of discord.

But, alas, Julius was right. The divergence in this dimension registered as very low—the catalyst had to be somewhere close by, and that meant consulting the local population.

The front entrance was open but guarded, a pair of lance-bearing soldiers standing side-by-side between the imposing metal gates. To call them tense seemed an overstatement, but there was a certain nervousness about the way they straightened to attention and levelled their weapons when he and Julius approached. _Our first clue, I would say._

"Leave this to me," Julius muttered from the corner of his mouth—Rideaux was just about to sneer disagreement when one of the soldiers spoke up.

"State your business!"

"We're here on behalf of Spirius Corporation." Julius responded, voice carrying with casually practised authority. Rideaux repressed the desire to roll his eyes. "Earlier this morning our headquarters received a transmission from your facility expressing a need for support concerning an 'urgent matter'. We've been dispatched to assist. Could either of you direct us to whoever might be in charge?"

The two men looked at one another for a silent moment—Rideaux held his breath, waiting to see if the ploy would work—before lowering their weapons. The one who'd first spoken jerked his head to the side, an invitation to enter. "It's about time someone did something. Come on in. Ask for Doctor Kline, she'll show you around."

"Thank you," Julius replied, motioned lightly for Rideaux to follow, and marched through the gates without so much as a hint that he didn't belong. Rideaux watched him, and contemplated how one man managed to be so incredibly stupid and so eminently capable at the same time. It truly was a mystery.

He was just following, a few steps behind, when he noticed the second guard looking at him. Even through the heavy metal visor that covered the man's face Rideaux thought he could detect a twinkle of amusement. He paused, and tilted his head in askance. "Can I help you?"

"Did they really only send the two of you?" This soldier was younger than his counterpart, at least from the unpleasantly nasal sound of his voice. "I reckon you'll have trouble by yourselves."

Rideaux sharpened his smile.

"Do you now? It's a good thing no one pays you to have an opinion." He bowed, watching the man process his response and suddenly straighten in belatedly indignity. "Don't worry," Rideaux added, turning on his heel and continuing to follow after Julius. "I'm not _only_ skin and bone."

It took no time at all to catch up—Julius had taken a slow pace, looking dour as ever.

"Must you antagonise _everyone_ you meet?" Julius hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Must _you_ repeat yourself so often?" Rideaux fired back. "The man was sneering at me. Am I supposed to ignore that? Besides, I hardly said a thing. You're being oversensitive."

Julius had no reply to that, or else he didn't want to dignify it with an answer. Having subdued him, at least temporarily, Rideaux glanced at their surroundings for any further clue as to what they were getting themselves into. Perhaps things were busier than usual, the atmosphere slightly more sombre... but perhaps not. Maybe these people were always miserable; he would be, if _he_ was expected to work out here day in day out.

Doctor Kline turned out to be a woman of middling years, with dirt-blonde hair and brown eyes that held the tired echo of alertness. She brightened quickly enough when they introduced themselves.

"I'm glad you were able to arrive so quickly. Has anyone explained the situation to you?"

_The situation?_ Rideaux ran through possibilities in his mind, each more convoluted than the last. It couldn't possibly be anything _too_ complicated or morbid, though; the deviation wasn't pronounced enough for that. Something simple, then. An experiment gone wrong? Some sort of malfunction in their research equipment? Rideaux found himself privately hoping for technical failure, just for the amusement of watching Julius try to deal with it.

"Not yet." Julius responded, carefully neutral. Rideaux folded his arms and listened.

"Then allow me. Two weeks ago our facility was beset by a pack of flying monsters. We were able to drive most of them away—this is quite a common problem here, so we have practice. Unfortunately one particularly aggressive specimen has settled itself somewhere among the battlements. We haven't been able to scare the beast off, but until yesterday no one had actually been hurt. Now, however..." She paused long enough to wearily rub her eyes with the heel of one hand. "One of our brightest talents has been gravely wounded. He's been sent back to Triglyph for treatment—I've heard you Spirius agents have access to the most advanced medical spyrix on the market." The light in her eyes kindled in fresh hope, hungry for reassurance.

"That is a_bsolutely _true," Rideaux couldn't resist interjecting, sliding forward to place himself between Julius and the mournful woman. "Let me assure you that this poor soul couldn't possibly be in safer hands. He'll be better than new by the time we're done with him. Let my colleague here tell you." He turned his sunniest smile on Julius. "Go on. Tell her how talented our medical division is." _Praise me, darling. You know you want to._

Julius looked as though he would rather swallow a toad. "They are... yes. Very talented." He managed, shooting Rideaux a cool glare. "You couldn't kill them even if you wanted to."

_And I love you too, Julius_, Rideaux crooned silently, far too pleased with himself. Doctor Kline looked frankly affronted at Julius's last remark; Rideaux spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence, allowing Julius to wrestle the conversation back under control.

* * *

Not even ten minutes later, they knew three things.

First, they would be facing some sort of winged lupine creature, capable of flight and equipped with rather too many sets of viciously serrated teeth. Their divergence catalyst, no doubt. It sounded quite revolting. When Kline had warned them of its speed Rideaux had been careful not to scoff.

Second, the upper floors of the building had already been evacuated in light of the recent injury. The wounded researcher was named Balan, and Julius had twitched at the name. Someone familiar? It certainly seemed that way.

Third, and most pressingly, they were considerably ahead of schedule. Ludger's ragtag party were most likely only now arriving in Triglyph.

He and Julius needed to buy more time.

It wasn't until Julius shot him an uncharacteristically desperate look that Rideaux realised just how precarious their situation had become. _He's fresh out of ideas. He wants __**me**__ to solve this._ The thought was both exhilarating and unsettling. After all, Julius had never been a fan of Rideaux's particular brand of problem-solving.

_Fine then. A nice, Kresnik-friendly solution..._ it wasn't so long ago that a Kresnik-friendly solution would have been to simply kill Kline and anyone else making things difficult. But Julius had changed since those days—little Ludger's tooth-rottingly sweet influence no doubt.

Should he kill her anyway, and force the issue? Julius would follow his lead, if only because he'd have no choice once the first corpse hit the floor. Security would be all over them; they'd have to fight their way free. No trouble at all for two experienced Chromatus users. But then he'd have to listen to Julius complain about it. Trapped here in this miserable dump, surrounded by bodies and forced to endure Julius's nagging? Just the thought was unbearable. There had to be another way.

It came to him when they reached the elevator. Julius entered first, casting him another meaningful look that seemed to scream '_if you have any bright ideas, now would be the time'_. Doctor Kline stepped as if to follow, and jolted with surprise when Rideaux caught her arm.

"We can find our own way from here," He said, pointedly releasing his grip before she somehow got it into her head he was trying to be intimidating. People had a tendency to do that around him. "Could you see to evacuating the ground floor? I would _hate_ for anyone else to be injured."

She looked skeptical of the possibility, and seemed about to say so. Julius raised an eyebrow as well, but had the sense to play along. "I agree. We don't know just how ugly this could get. Better to take precautions."

"As you say." She still looked suspicious, watching them as the door slid closed. Satisfied, Rideaux set himself before the control panel and pressed for the top floor.

"I'm not sure she's going to listen," Julius said, leaning against the back wall.

"She doesn't have to. As long as she's not in here with us, I don't care what the woman does." They'd risen a few floors now. This would be good enough. Rideaux worked quickly, reaching within his sleeve to pluck out one of his scalpel knives. Julius watched, increasingly perplexed, as Rideaux worked the thin blade edge into the corner of the control panel, wiggling the handle back and forth. The panel popped away from the wall with a satisfying crack, leaving it dangling precariously from an assortment of connecting wires. Rideaux picked through the complicated array, found what he was looking for, and pulled. _There_.

The elevator ground to a staggered halt. The lights abruptly cut out, then blinked and rose again to a lacklustre greenish glow. Emergency back-up. Very sensible. Rideaux straightened, and stepped over to lean on the wall next to Julius. "It's a good thing _one_ of us isn't useless. Your poor brother. He'll find it so galling when he has to thank me later."

Julius shifted away, apparently uncomfortable with making their confined quarters any cosier than necessary. "And how exactly is this helping? What did you do?"

"What I just _did_, Julius, is buy us some valuable time. All we have to do is sit here and wait. Ludger and friends can carry out their little mission, and when they're done I'll simply reconnect the power and we'll be on our way." He shrugged. "I'm sure the local engineers will be very upset. Very embarrassing, I'm sure, to think they managed to get two bonafide Spirius executives trapped in their 'faulty' elevator. I wonder who they'll blame? Some poor unpopular nobody, no doubt."

Julius processed this with his usual dour expression, only twitching his lip slightly in some muted appreciation. Then he frowned, as a new question surfaced. "Are you sure you can get this working again?"

"I've done it plenty of times before," Rideaux answered, saw Julius raise his eyebrows in query, and immediately regretted the response.

Yes, he'd done this before, in Spirius HQ. Countless times he'd jammed himself in the company elevator, trapping himself between floors for the guarantee of a moment's privacy. There were things he didn't want people seeing: spasms, convulsions, the shivering agony between one cycle of pain medication and the next. He'd gotten better at managing his treatments as the years dragged on and rarely had problems _these_ days that couldn't be disguised under a furious bad mood, but even so. Even so.

He shivered, a full-bodied shudder at remembered pain, and gritted his teeth in annoyance. _Typical_ Julius. Always knowing just what not to ask.

"Does it matter? You're an embarrassment, by the way. There were a dozen ways you could have delayed things back there. Next time you're representing _both _of us, could you please try not to make such a pathetic mess of it?"

There, that had him distracted. Julius squared his shoulders, puffing up like some wounded adolescent defending his pride. "If you had any suggestions, it might have been useful to hear them."

"Oh? So I should be more open? Have you heard that expression about the pot calling the kettle black?"

It struck a nerve, just like Rideaux knew it would. He could see it in the way Julius narrowed his eyes, the way Julius's jaw clenched then slackened on some half-formed retort. Even in the hazy gloom his body language was clear and transparent. _We know each other too well._

"I've been perfectly... forthcoming." Julius seemed to chew the word before finally producing it, like a child being made to eat something unsavoury.

"Shall I give you a list?" Rideaux raised a hand, ticking off his points one slender finger at a time. "You won't tell me where you've been hiding." _One._ "You won't tell me how you were able to track this fractured dimension." _Two. _"You won't tell me how far your condition has advanced, you won't even give me a straight answer on how well you'll be able to fight." _Three, and four._ "And I _know_ that there's something else you're not telling me." Rideaux closed his fingers into a fist. _Five_.

Julius took this without so much as a flicker of response. In fact his expression seemed quite frozen, as though he didn't quite know _how_ to respond. Was he feeling guilt? Not likely. Struggling to find a good enough lie to cover all those questions? Rideaux was not about to give him a chance to figure one out. He ploughed on, jabbing an accusatory finger at Julius's annoyingly blank face.

"I _know_ there's something you're not telling me," Rideaux repeated. "You've been acting strange this entire time. It's..." _Ludger? Elle? _Rideaux cast his mind back, frantically trying to connect the dots. "It's the Key. Every time I mention the Key of Kresnik, _you_ act strange."

"No I don't," Julius snapped, too quickly.

"_Yes, you do_. And it's not only you. Ludger does it, even the damn girl does it. You all know something you're not telling me. What is it, Julius?" Silence. Rideaux gave a frustrated growl and began to pace back and forth in the tiny confined room—step step _turn_, step step _turn. J_ulius watched him in silent measure. "Do you think I won't figure it out? Something the three of you know that I don't. Does it involve Bisley? She's not some other bastard of his, is she?"

"Of course not!" Julius snapped again, and this time real anger reverberated in his voice. Rideaux shot him a pointed look, still pacing, and watched as Julius immediately tried to steel his expression back to icy neutrality. "You're imagining things. If there was something you needed to know, I would tell you."

"You keep saying that." Step step, _turn_. "When I _need_ to know you'll _tell_ me. Do I look like a child to you? _I'm_ not your baby brother, Julius. I don't need any of the perverse coddling you think of as protection."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Julius growled, expression shuttered and set, making it abundantly clear he'd be saying nothing else on the matter. Disgusted, Rideaux stopped pacing to instead fling himself into a corner, arms folded and one leg bent to tap an irritated rhythm with his heel.

For several minutes there was nothing but daunting silence, which Julius handled with typical unwavering aplomb. Rideaux crawled back over his memories, trying to find some other accusation to throw against his miserable companion, and finally settled on something far more recent.

"Well then tell me this. Who's Balan?"

It had exactly the effect Rideaux hoped. Julius prickled to attention, expression momentarily vulnerable and open at the unexpected words. Rideaux savoured every fleeting second of it.

"A neighbour," He replied at last. Rideaux deflated slightly, let down by the boring answer. But at least Julius had actually responded. Maybe it was even the truth.

The silence seemed about to deepen when Julius surprised him by speaking again, eyes focused on some distant corner of his own memory. "We used to spend time together a bit. Sometimes I'd babysit—his cousin, and sometimes he'd keep an eye on Ludger. We're not really close, but I like him."

Rideaux wasn't sure he could even recognise his own neighbours in a crowd, much less call them by name. To think _Julius_ was actually capable of making friends. Rideaux glanced for a moment to the same abstract corner that Julius was staring at, as though trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was Julius was seeing. _Happy childhood memories, hm? How lucky for you._

"I hear he works with Jude now," Julius continued thoughtfully. "Conducting spyrite research. They're making good progress. I think they'll make it work."

"Probably," Rideaux ceded with disinterest. This conversation was turning out a lot duller than he'd hoped. "Well just be grateful he managed to get himself mauled. Now you won't bump into him. No messy questions."

There was a long pause.

"Right." Julius voice was tight, his expression looking very much like he wanted to say something entirely different.

It probably would have been better to just let the matter drop. Instead, frustrated to once again be on the receiving end of Julius's attitude, Rideaux narrowed his eyes. "There's no need to get emotional. Your friend Balan doesn't live here. No one does. These people aren't _real_. They're nothing. None of this matters."

Whatever response Rideaux might have expected, it wasn't the steely glower that Julius was now giving him. "You," He said, "Really are disgusting sometimes."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Rideaux almost laughed, astonished. "Save me your platitudes, Julius. Hypocrisy makes me ill."

"Save _me_ your twisted logic." Julius, for his part, looked as though he wanted nothing more than to walk away from the conversation. Instead, trapped and baited, he continued. "I don't care what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, Rideaux, but don't drag me down with you."

Rideaux knew Julius had softened over the years, but this seemed like something else entirely. Was Ludger to blame? Or did this belong at the feet of Jude Mathis and his merry brigade of idiots? Whatever the cause, Rideaux sneered and crossed his arms. "When did you become so sanctimonious? It really doesn't suit you. In fact, I think I miss the _old_ Julius. You must remember him—he would have flattened this whole facility by now. Wouldn't even have batted one pretty eyelid at the thought." Rideaux tilted his head, a gesture of innocence offset by the sharpness of his smile. "Do you _really_ presume to lecture me, Julius? _You_, of all people?"

"I'm not lecturing you. I know what I am." The dim light was making it difficult to read Julius's eyes, hidden behind those familiar steel frames. "And I know what these people are. They're all victims, Rideaux. I won't lie to myself and call them anything else. Not any more. If that makes me a monster then so be it."

"Oh, that's cute. I'm sure Ludger's friends eat it up. How very _tragic_ you are." Rideaux scoffed, teeth bared around a growl of impatience. He didn't mean to speak again, but the words left him before he had time to think and regret them. "When did you _change_ so much?"

Julius seemed to take the question seriously, judging by the weighted silence before he responded. "When I found him, I suppose."

No prizes for guessing who. Rideaux clenched his gloved fists, cherishing the private thought of closing them around precious Ludger's fragile neck. If he never heard another word about dear Ludger again it would _still_ be too soon. _You left me behind, Julius. You left me behind and you don't even know you did it._

Struck by a moment of vicious inspiration, Rideaux's smile grew taut. "Does Ludger even _know_ half of the things you've done? I could tell him some wonderful stories. I'm sure he'd love to hear about your glory days."

"_Rideaux,"_ Julius rumbled, deep and low in his chest. Rideaux knew a warning when he heard it. His smile tightened further.

"Do you think he'd be proud? Try to uphold the family name? How many precious lives would he have to ruin before surpassing your record, do you think? I'd love to see him try."

He'd kept talking, prying at the oldest wound even as Julius's expression darkened. Now it seemed he'd crossed some final unspoken line. Julius stepped closer, eyes glinting dangerous anger, and Rideaux was already in a corner—he had nowhere to retreat to as Julius penned him in, leaving him little choice but to stand taller and sneer some final bravado.

"You _can't_ change who you are, Julius. Not so long as I'm here to remind you."

"I know that. Nothing I do now can change the man I used to be." Julius's voice was strangely level; then it veered, thrumming with ill-contained disgust. "But I have only ever met two people _incapable_ of change, Rideaux. You—and Bakur."

Of all the vile things Julius could have said to him, Rideaux never expected... His mind swam in a moment of stunned shock, reeling and furious, but too blindsided to act on it. Julius's own expression was closed; he stepped away, silent and unyielding. The comparison—_Explicit? Implicit? Is that what he thinks of me, or is that just how it seems?—_stood unchallenged between them.

_You—and Bakur._

"And yet here I am," He finally snarled, more wounded than he had any idea what to do with. "Helping you. So what does that say about me, I wonder?" _Stranger, what does it say about Bisley?_

"Rideaux—"

He was going to take it back. Right then, in that moment, Rideaux hated him for it. "Julius, _shut up_."

Rideaux stepped back to the control panel in a flurry of motion, glad for a quick excuse to keep his hands busy and distracted. It took a moment, fiddling with the wires as he tried to get them back in recognisable order. Then he located the one he'd disconnected, setting it back in place with harried, twitching fingers. Julius finally spoke up.

"Ludger hasn't contacted us yet. It's still too soon."

"Oops. What a pity." Rideaux finished, and waited for the familiar lurch of an elevator jolting back into life. "Unfortunately, I miscalculated. It seems that I can't spend another second in here with you. Unless you _want_ this to get even uglier." Not able to resist some parting shot, but not knowing what else to say, Rideaux looked back over his shoulder to fix Julius a deathly glare.

"You are _rude_, Julius Will Kresnik." Then he turned back to the control panel once more, waiting.

And waiting. The seconds continued to tick past. Rideaux's heart began to sink. Nervously, he fiddled the wire once more, then surreptitiously hit it with his fist for good measure. Still nothing. He could sense Julius stepping closer to peer over his shoulder.

"_How_ many times have you done this?"

"Shut up," Rideaux ground out between clenched teeth. "Just. Shut _up_."

* * *

An hour later, the GHS rang.

Julius, slouched miserably in one corner, came to attention and began groping around for the pocket of his discarded jacket. It had taken a long time before Julius had finally succumbed to the mounting heat and removed it; Rideaux suspected it was almost superstition that had him wait so long, as though _acknowledging_ their predicament would somehow make it true.

Rideaux himself had removed both gloves and boa some time ago, and was feeling queerly nostalgic for the shivering misery of this very morning, waiting beneath the copse of dead trees. _Ahh_, yes. Nature. The chill of frost in the air. Had it really been so bad? It couldn't possibly be worse than this. The walls seemed to be inching closer by the minute, and Julius's grim sullen mood only seemed to be deepening the longer they'd had to sit here and wait.

But now the GHS was ringing. Rideaux watched, knees drawn to his chest and head cushioned on his folded arms, as Julius finally finished fumbling and pulled the device free. "Ludger," He answered, voice instantly softer. Rideaux rolled his eyes, a response that was becoming all too familiar, and slouched deeper into angular misery.

"Where are you? ... Mm... That's too obvious, they'll search for you there..." Rideaux listened, trying to make sense of one half of the conversation and quietly resenting Julius's decision not to use the loudspeaker. It sounded as though Ludger and company had achieved their objective_. _Which meant _they_ were now behind schedule instead of ahead. Wonderful.

He waited until Julius hung up, then sprang to get the first word in. "Where are they hiding?"

"Our apartment," Julius replied, miserable with concern. Then his voice tightened, as though remembering who he was talking to. "They experienced a little trouble leaving. No one's hurt, but they've blocked themselves in. We need to hurry this up."

"Easier said than done," Rideaux reminded him unnecessarily, meeting Julius's frustrated glance with his own weary irritation. They lapsed back into defeated silence.

Surely the engineers would be trying to free them. It couldn't take that much longer, could it? Every minute that edged by Rideaux listened for some tell-tale sign of life, and every minute proved a fresh disappointment. He'd considered, on three separate occasions, simply activating his Chromatus and trying to force their way free. Between him and Julius they could surely cut their way through whatever metal held this damn contraption together, and he had little doubt about his ability to reach the rooftop aided only by his own power.

But that would require Julius using his Chromatus. Rideaux slid a cautious glance toward Julius's gloved hand, grimaced, and bit the idea down once more.

Not that he should _care_. Julius really didn't deserve so much undue consideration. Something else the damn Kresnik brothers would never thank him for.

And how _typical_ that it had to be _his_ plan that ended up backfiring so utterly. Yet another reason for Julius to look down on him. Just what neither of them needed. Rideaux scowled, muttering under his breath as he began beating out an impatient rhythm on the wall with his knuckles. Julius would tell him to stop after a few minutes—or at least that's what he'd done the first two times.

So Ludger and the others had succeeded, and were now hiding in the Kresnik family apartment. Rideaux had never been inside, but his mind's eye nursed a vivid picture of the place. Grey walls and a grey ceiling, leaky pipes hanging out of the kitchen wall, not enough storage space. Stupid cat toys constantly under foot, and probably some malignant odour that no one could find the source of. A miserable little hole in the wall, with a paltry market value just a bare fraction of that of his own luxurious home. It was a petty sort of revenge, but it pleased him all the same.

Ludger, Jude, Alvin. Leia and Elle. Rollo. Six of them, probably barricading the door against the Spirius agents trying to track them down. Counting on Julius to eliminate the divergence catalyst and get them safely home. Rideaux looked again to his former colleague, peering through the dim light to make out the lines of concern etched into Julius's face. Julius, so recently disgraced. Julius, the wanted terrorist.

It was hard to believe how much had happened in so short a time. Julius had been the darling of the company, the errant apple of Bisley's eye. Now it was Ludger who had risen through the ranks, Ludger who looked set to take it all. Ludger, Bisley's unknowing puppet, who would climb over both their corpses to inherit and succeed...

Maybe he should have botched the surgery back then, the day of the train crash. Rideaux entertained himself with the thought, imagining the different paths they might have taken without Ludger Will Kresnik around... and then ground to a halt, suddenly aware once more of that persistent itch of reason niggling the back of his mind. Julius looked over at him with fresh alertness, noticing the change in his demeanour.

That first day, back in Duval, in the bar. He'd sat and watched as Elle and Ludger bickered with one another, the little brat whining and grabbing for something. A watch. _Her_ watch, she'd said.

Like the first peal of thunder heralding an overdue storm, inspiration finally struck true.

"It's the girl." Rideaux blinked at Julius, aware of the ridiculous expression of dawning enlightenment on his face but too pleased to care. He'd finally figured it out. "_She's_ the Key."

"What are you talking about now?" Julius snapped, but it sounded half-hearted to Rideaux's ear. _I'm right, and he knows I'm right._ Rideaux's expression shifted from surprise to an almost predatory pleasure.

"Oh no, not again. Don't think you're getting out of it _this_ time. It's her. That _Elle_ is the Key of Kresnik. That'swhy she's here today. That's why you've been acting strange. It isn't Ludger at all. It's the damn brat." Rideaux dragged himself back to his feet, wincing around the aching stiffness before resuming his delighted tirade. "Oh, this is just _rich_. Does Bisley know? I hope you've had enough sense to keep it from him. Does _she_ know? Oh, she does, doesn't she—that's why she was confused back there. It all makes so much sense now."

Julius rose back to standing as well, pocketing his GHS and watching with the sort of wariness that Rideaux had come to expect of him.

"Well isn't this _interesting_. Where did she even come from?" An uncomfortably familiar vision suddenly flashed before his eyes and made him swallow his next theory. _An orphaned child with a pocketwatch, falling so neatly into Bisley's hands...? Surely not. Not again._

Maybe, somehow, Julius knew what he was thinking, for his voice seemed unusually gentle when he spoke. "She came from far away. That's all you need to know."

And there it was. Grounded once more in the present, Rideaux fixed Julius with an acidic glower. "Is that so? And at no point before now did you think that _maybe_ you should trust me with this information?"

Julius, damn him, actually had the nerve to laugh. "_Trust_ you? Why would I?"

_Why indeed?_ Rideaux, momentarily distracted, grasped weakly for some sort of response. "That— That isn't the point."

Julius laughed harder this time, spreading his hands in a gesture that seemed to say '_I rest my case'. _Rideaux valiantly resisted the temptation to stab him.

"Listen to me, Julius, and be amazed at your own idiocy. I'll even make this simple for you. Elle is the Key of Kresnik. Fact. Elle is becoming a divergence catalyst. Also a fact. _You_ want me to try and cure her. Fact?" Rideaux paused long enough for this to sink in, continuing only when Julius frowned in what appeared to be the beginning of comprehension. "I'll say it again. At _no_ point did you think it might be _relevant_ for me to know about this?"

"It doesn't make a difference," Julius said uncertainly.

"And you're sure of that, are you?" Rideaux shook his head. "The _fact_ is, you've been withholding information that might be critical in saving that girl's life. It doesn't matter whether or not you trust me, my dear idiot. The second you asked for my expertise, you entered a contract." At the sharp and rather horrified look Julius gave him Rideaux quickly amended himself. "An _unwritten_ contract. The kind that exists between doctor and patient."

Julius actually had the sense to look faintly distressed. "Tell me the truth, Rideaux. Does this make a difference?"

Rideaux shrugged, and spread his arms. "Who can say? _I've_ been honest from the start, Julius, unlike you. I'll spell it out again—no one has ever managed to halt the transformation into a divergence catalyst. You've asked me to try, and so I am. But if you aren't telling me the whole truth then I'm going to make mistakes. Do you know how many records we have archived pertaining to the Key of Kresnik? Spirius is full of them. And can you guess how many I asked Ludger to collect today?"

"None of them," Julius finished, correctly and unnecessarily. His voice turned low and inward. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Of course you didn't." Rideaux folded his arms, leaning back against the wall and bowing his head in fresh consideration of the new facts. He mused aloud, mostly for his own sake—certainly not to try and appease that forlorn expression on Julius's stupid face. "It most likely doesn't change very much. Hard to say for sure. The power of the Key, the power of Origin... even if it _could_ be useful, I doubt she'd be able to use it on herself. The Key from some _other_ dimension, perhaps... But we don't have the time or the means to track one down, and I doubt they'd want to co-operate anyway. And besides, it's all theoretical."

He mulled it a few seconds longer before raising his head to fix Julius a pointed look. Time to keep pushing, while the going was good. "Let's try this again. What else are you keeping from me?"

Unerringly bland, expression quite flat, Julius replied, "Ludger is Elle's father."

In truth, Rideaux hadn't expected an answer. He certainly hadn't expected a dramatic one. Instead he found himself caught completely offguard, slack-jawed and uncomprehending for a few precious seconds. Then his mind snapped back into gear, hurrying through the math—if Ludger was twenty years old, then...

Gleeful at the twisted thought, Rideaux grinned. "Well _well._ That's just _nasty_."

It took Julius a moment to realise what he was insinuating, and another to straighten his indignation back into actual words. "No, you— Get your mind _out_ of the gutter for once! She's from a fractured dimension. _Hell_, Rideaux. I _thought_ that went without saying."

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Even so, Rideaux could hardly stifle his amusement, just barely managing to suppress it down to a simple dirty smirk. Even that was too much for Julius, who continued to glare at him in affronted disgust. Rideaux made a private note to himself to try and find other ways to besmirch precious Ludger's honour.

A sobering thought penetrated his humour. Rideaux let his folded arms swing loose, setting one ungloved hand on his hip as he regarded Julius with new consideration. What was it they'd been arguing about before? _Change_, that had been the magic word. It seemed that, somehow, Julius had found yet another way to change himself into something unrecognisable. Without Rideaux's permission. Naturally.

Deceptively mild, Rideaux asked, "Should I congratulate you?"

"I... hm." Julius stood silent, considering the words. His face was... solemn. Cautious and wistful. "I hadn't considered it." But his expression hardened before the idea could take root. Rideaux filed the surprising reaction away, secret and safe. "Elle is from a fractured dimension, one that's about ten years ahead of ours. That's where Ludger obtained the final waymarker. He fought, and killed, her father."

And Elle's father _was_ Ludger. _Ergo..._

Rideaux gave a low whistle of understanding. "And that's why the little dumpling has been crying so much. What fun. Have you considered _letting_ her become a catalyst? Some people would call it mercy."

"Some people would be well advised to keep such opinions to themselves," Julius grated between clenched teeth, with a touch of familiar ire. Rideaux decided to take the hint.

"And when you say her father was the final waymarker, you mean...?"

"He was calling himself Victor." Rideaux whistled again; Julius nodded. "He killed Bisley, and...many others, all in Elle's name. I don't think she realises how many people died for her, which is one small blessing in all of this. When Victor reached Canaan he was turned away. That's when he concocted a plan to replace _our _Ludger and steal himself another chance—he wanted to be reborn with Elle, here, in the prime dimension. That was his wish."

_Not __**our**__ Ludger, Julius; yours. I want __**none**__ of him. _Rideaux kept the objection to himself, but scoffed aloud at those final words. "What a pathetic idea. He already had the girl, didn't he? Why not just live out his days with her in their little fractured dimension and save us all the trouble?"

For once Julius didn't disagree with him. Instead he kept his brooding silence, folded his arms, and turned to lean against the wall alongside him, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Rideaux could feel Julius's body heat radiating where their arms touched, surprisingly warm. It was a lot more contact than Julius usually allowed.

"So. He killed Bisley." Rideaux tilted his head at an angle, gazing at Julius through the dim flickering light before directing his attention to the ceiling of their elevator-prison. "That must have been satisfying. I'm quite jealous."

"Mm," Was all Julius said.

"And he must have killed _you_, if he inherited the title of Victor." Rideaux shrugged one shoulder, before allowing, "Or else something else killed you for him."

"No, it was him." Julius, too, turned his gaze upward. "Or so Ludger tells me."

_What about me?_ Rideaux almost asked, then thought better of the question. Whatever the answer, it wasn't likely to be very enjoyable. It didn't matter anyway—that dimension was gone now, thrown to the void like so many others.

His musings were interrupted by a sudden lurching movement. Rideaux stumbled at the unexpected motion, grabbing onto Julius's forearm at the same time as Julius's reached out to steady him. The elevator groaned, dropped slightly, and then began a painstakingly slow descent. Rideaux straightened, snatching his arm free of Julius's protective clutch in a belated attempt to reclaim his dignity. "It's about damn time. Useless amateurs."

"Says the one who got us trapped here in the first place." Rideaux shot him a withering look, to which Julius only smiled, falsely innocent. Then his expression sobered. "Listen, Rideaux. Before we get out of here, there's something I have to say to you."

A thousand different possibilities tumbled through Rideaux's mind, each more lurid than the last. But no—he already knew where this was going. Rideaux shook his head, flicking a dismissive hand in Julius's direction before crouching down to collect his discarded gloves. "I don't want to hear it. You needn't patronise me, former Director Kresnik. I, too, know what I am." _And what we are to each other._

Julius only shook his head. "It's not about trust, you know. Some habits are just too difficult to break."

"Like the habits of a lifetime." Of the many approaches Julius might have taken, that faux-apology... was somehow not so difficult to swallow. Rideaux seized a handful of Julius's coat, passing it up to him in a muted gesture of goodwill. Then he climbed back to his feet, smiling hollow and sour."I suppose that's what happens when you pit two people against each other for the better part of their lives. Causes a few little rifts here and there."

"Something else to thank him for," Julius said, and his expression shuttered closed once more.

They stood in silence, waiting, accompanied only by the spectre of the man who'd led them both down this road.


	5. Chapter 5

When the elevator doors finally slid open, Doctor Kline was waiting for them, accompanied by half a dozen profusely apologetic technicians and another dozen frantic assistants. Julius kept quietly to himself while Rideaux made a show of berating them all for precious time wasted—when he finally finished, Kline had gone quite ashen and Rideaux himself was feeling almost entirely back to his usual acerbic self. "With friends like you, who would ever need enemies?" Julius muttered to him at one point; Rideaux had only bared his teeth in smirking response.

If anyone suspected the true cause of their delay, they didn't seem willing to say so. He and Julius were, instead, dolefully informed that, no, taking the stairs _wouldn't_ be possible on account of the building not _having_ any. A grave oversight, Julius had informed them critically, keeping a remarkably straight face. Bombarded instead by assurances that there would be no further trouble, Julius stepped back into the elevator. Rideaux, making to follow, stumbled to a surprised halt when Julius raised a staying hand.

"Let's do this one at a time." He said, in a voice not open to debate. "Just in case."

The doors shut before Rideaux could muster a retort, leaving him irritably surrounded by the very people he'd just torn to verbal shreds. If this was Julius's idea of a joke it was in extremely poor taste. Moody and agitated, Rideaux crossed his arms, tapped one finger against his elbow in an impatient rhythm, and found himself musing on the strange expression Julius had made when asked about Elle. When asked about his niece.

So. Julius was an uncle now.

It hardly seemed fair. Julius, forever the fortunate one, now had something _else_ worth living for.

Yet he seemed to be keeping it at a distance. And no wonder—what sense was there in growing attached? The girl was likely doomed, no matter how hard anyone tried to save her. And Julius's own chances of survival were looking bleaker by the day, much like his own. Before _Ludger_ appeared, he'd believed Bisley intended to keep one of them around, but now...

So long as Origin's Trial remained incomplete, every day was borrowed time. _It's coming, Julius, and soon. You feel it on your shoulders, just the same way I do._ Rideaux growled under his breath, remembering again the expression Julius had worn when asked about the girl. Cautious, some distant echo of stillborn optimism. Rideaux violently quashed the curious part of himself that found Julius's melancholy oddly touching.

_That_ road could only lead to ruin.

* * *

"I don't see what the purpose of that was, but next time you— oh, _damn_ it all..." The hallway, stretched to either side of him, stood devastated and empty. Julius, the stupid insolent lout, was nowhere to be seen.

Professional instincts taking command, Rideaux quickly backed himself to the wall and pressed a hand over an inner pocket of his jacket, fingers tracing over the pocketwatch concealed within. _Think. Assess._ What had happened here, and how recently?

It was recent. Within the last few hours, or even the last few minutes. The walls were gouged with the evidence of terrible claws, stuttering electronics hanging down and hissing in a mockery of expression. No blood, but sure signs of struggle. That scrape in the wall, could that have been caused by a lance? Possibly. Rideaux grit his teeth at the prospect.

The damn beasts were supposed to be on the _roof_, not inside the building! "_Amateurs,_" He spat again, a word becoming more and more invective by the minute,"Useless _amateurs_." Even Ivar could have done a better job than this.

Hurrying through the mental motions, Rideaux painted the scene in his mind. The elevator had reached this top floor, depositing Julius directly into the pack of roving creatures. A coincidence? Or had the creatures heard him coming and lain in ambush? No, there was no cover here, nowhere they could have hidden. They must have struck immediately, before Julius had realised what was happening. Had Julius managed to activate his Chromatus? Rideaux cast a second considering glance over the wall, and decided yes, he had. So Julius was armed, and fighting.

So why couldn't he hear anything? And where, amidst this struggle, was the blood that had surely been spilled? Too many questions, and no time to spare. He'd figured out all he was going to from here.

_More haste, less speed._ Rideaux moved with cautious alacrity, determining the route of peak carnage and following the trail of damage. Across the hallway and through a battered mechanical door, and then through the ransacked debris of what must have once been a research laboratory. Scattered papers and twinkling devices caught his vigilant eye—was that a spirit fossil down there, buried beneath that toppled stack of files?—and given other circumstances he would have gladly stopped to read. A great deal of his own successful research had begun under quite similar circumstances. And why _not_ profit from a dimension on the verge of destruction?

But not now. Rideaux crouched lower at the first brush of cool air, inching around an upturned metal desk to place himself in direct sight of the open door. 'Open' being a generous term. It hung from its hinges at a severe angle, blocking the lower half of the doorway with its damaged bulk. Rideaux surveyed the limited gap left available, and smiled grim satisfaction. If the creatures had been coming and going this way, then they couldn't be all that large.

Doctor Kline's description came back to him. Lupine, she'd said—and winged. It didn't matter how large they were once the open sky was involved. Luring them back in here might give him an advantage, except their sheer numbers would undoubtedly overwhelm him in such a limited space. No, he needed the rooftop for manoeuvrability just as much as they did—but what he called necessity, they would use as a natural advantage. If only he knew how many to expect.

Damn it, if only he knew where the hell _Julius_ had gone.

Closer, closer... pressing himself to the wall just inside the damaged doorframe, Rideaux twisted to peer at what lay beyond—and swore.

_There_ was Julius. He _had_ activated his Chromatus, although it didn't seem to have done him a great deal of good. He lay now in utmost stillness, eyes open and vividly alert but limbs splayed at strange unnatural angles. Not broken, in Rideaux's professional medical opinion, but it was hard to believe the position could possibly be _comfortable_. With a sick lurch in the pit of his stomach, Rideaux suddenly knew exactly what he was looking at. A relic of his childhood, his own personal nightmare: paralysis.

Permanent, or a temporary affliction? Temporary, Rideaux decided. It had to be temporary. Which explained the signs of initial struggle, followed by the overall lack of visceral carnage. Julius had attempted to defend himself, but then been struck low by whatever trick these creatures had up their figurative sleeves. And then they'd dragged him out here? Rideaux looked closer, trying to determine evidence of head trauma or some other sign that Julius had been so manhandled... but it was too difficult to tell from such a distance.

Surrounding Julius, barking back and forth in a series of excited yelps, stood five hound-like creatures. Fangs, as promised, protruded revoltingly from their elongated jaws, jagged and glistening with froth. Their eyes were small and forward-facing, tiny glinting black beads. Their back legs looked strong, their front paws comparatively slight and unimpressive. From their shoulder-blades emerged the glistening wings Doctor Kline had described, almost insectoid in the way they gleamed and reflected the afternoon light. Rideaux tried to envision the beasts taking to the air, propelling themselves skyward with a kick of the hind legs and descending once more to snap and tear with those vile serrated teeth.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." Only five, though. It was too dangerous to assume there wouldn't be more, but in the end it might not matter. He didn't need to kill these ones—only the divergence catalyst truly mattered, and there was no sign of it here. The best plan now was to stay low and wait for some sign of the real target. It would have to show up sooner or later.

Particularly if these yapping hounds were planning to surrender Julius to their pack leader's undoubtedly carnivorous appetite. Rideaux raised a brow, imagining the sight of a defenseless Julius caught and spread like some ancient sacrifice upon a barbarian altar. Ohhh, yes. The thought definitely held a certain vicious appeal...

So he could wait, and watch. _Or_ he could rescue Julius now. The thought of having Julius Will Kresnik indebted to him_... _not even Rideaux could put a price on _that_. Silent and tensed, Rideaux made his choice.

Sneaking around them proved to be deceptively simple. The hounds were completely distracted, still yapping at one another and occasionally ducking their heads to snuffle at their unmoving prey. Rideaux watched with absolute attention as he climbed gingerly through the battered doorway, scalpels ready and poised for attack. Should he activate his Chromatus now, or wait for the true enemy to appear? He was confident in his strength, true—but so was Julius, now lying paralysed and helpless.

And aware of him. Rideaux met Julius's white-rimmed gaze and raised a cautioning hand, scalpels still grasped between his fingers. To his grateful surprise Julius seemed to calm a notch, eyes narrowing slightly as he gave a barely perceptible nod. Not _completely_ paralysed, then.

"They're blind," Julius hissed. One of the hounds snapped aggressively at the sound of Julius's voice, fangs scraping harsh but harmless across the metallic sheen of Julius's Chromatus-enhanced torso, but astonishingly they gave no other response, still unaware of the new presence in their midst. Julius, watching warily, spoke again. "And their hearing is poor. Be quick."

_How else?_ Rideaux mouthed in response, and guessed from the twinkle in Julius's eye that he understood.

Now, then. It was time. Rideaux reached into his jacket, and closed his fingers around the watch kept within.

He'd been scarcely more than a child the first time he'd activated his Chromatus under Bisley Bakur's watchful gaze. The process had almost killed him, frail and sickly as he'd been. Afterwards, though—afterwards he'd felt exhilarated.

There had been a lot to learn since then. The limitations of his power, and the limitations of his own struggling body. The costs; physical, mental, emotional. Not a day had passed that he hadn't felt the toll extracted in one form or another. Every dimension he'd destroyed was one step closer to his own demise; transformed into a divergence catalyst, or chosen to become the path to Canaan. Scion of Kresnik, brought into this world with watch in hand, the Chromatus had controlled and consumed his life.

And yet, despite it all, Rideaux still felt that same rush of exhilaration each and every time.

If there was one thing Rideaux Zek Rugievit understood, it was the all-powerful intoxication of hating something you loved.

Freedom, it felt like. Nerves dimmed, senses heightened—pain diminished in favour of strength, of agility, of all the gifts he'd been denied at birth. The alterations he'd made to his aspyrixes, the never-ending cycle of new medications, the medical limits to which he'd pushed himself time and time again—none of it ever compared to this.

Rideaux crouched low, breathing deeply of the pure open air and taking a bare sweet second to savour the fresh power coursing through his altered body. Then he lunged, blades levelled and sweeping around. The first creature tore and split with a shrieking cry, collapsing to the rooftop in instantaneous demise. The other four finally came to belated attention, wheeling around to face this new source of danger. By then Rideaux had spun, darting forward to strike at a second foe. This one was not so fortunate as the first—it hit the ground wounded and continued to thrash, crippled and agonised.

Perhaps if the other three hadn't leapt at him, Rideaux might have felt sorry for the stupid beast. Instead he backstepped _one two three_, arms and blades raised to defend himself. Julius yelled something, Rideaux couldn't make out what, but he understood the tone well enough to take it as a warning. He twisted, ducking beneath the assault instead of blocking it directly.

It was the right decision. Two of the creatures passed over him, spewing in their wake a cloud of purple spores. The third seemed more aware, following Rideaux's movements with an eager snap of its slathering fang-riddled jaws. Rideaux knocked it back with a wild swing, saving himself from the attack but failing to do any harm. Breath caught and heart thundering, he leapt back to put some space between them, and watched as the strange purple cloud caught on the wind to dissipate and vanish.

"Don't breathe that stuff!" Julius shouted, struggling futilely himself against the noxious effects.

"You don't say!" Rideaux shot back, realigning himself for a second assault.

The three remaining foes were spreading out, but slowly, more wary than he would have expected. One of them was swinging its head from side to side, nostrils flaring wildly. Another kept turning its attention to Julius as if distracted. Why weren't they airborne yet? Rideaux feinted left, experimentally, and then followed the move through with mounting confusion as the three creatures failed to respond. Blind, Julius had said, and hard of hearing. So what senses did they use, and why weren't they using them now?

Questions for later. Rideaux snapped forward, skewering one of the confused monsters just as it seemed to finally become aware of his new position. The other two came to vicious attention, yowling fury and dashing forward as Rideaux swore, planting a foot against the creature now revoltingly impaled on the Chromatus-enhanced scalpels of his left hand. He yanked, and found them stuck fast in the unyielding flesh of his prey. Rideaux swore again, gulped fresh air, and twisted to face the oncoming attack.

The spores struck him full in the face, bringing with them the unwanted flash of too much childhood fear. Rideaux grit his clenched jaw and surged forward, leaving behind the three scalpel blades still embedded in the carcass. Panicking wouldn't help; he knew that. Even so his next swing was wide and erratic, a desperate strike designed only to clear his path. It didn't work, and Rideaux very nearly gasped at the feel of heavy jaws clamping around his forearm.

The fangs barely penetrated his armoured flesh, but the weight of it dragged him down, spinning him around dizzyingly. His knees hit the ground with a jarring crunch, but at least now he was lower, pulled beneath the dangerous toxic cloud that was now beginning to dissipate overhead. Rideaux pulled in a fresh lungful of air, unsure of the source of his nausea—the toxins, the lack of oxygen? Or fear, humiliating fear of a too-familiar threat? Livid, he yanked his arm forward and rolled his weight across the stubborn creature still grasping it, crushing its fragile wings and making an unlikely weapon of his own physical form. Never had he ever envisioned himself doing something so inelegant as _wrestling_ with monsters, but the effect was immediate—it released its grip, thrashing and twisting in an attempt to gain leverage and free itself. Rideaux cut its throat with furious efficiency.

Which left one. It was upon him faster than he would have anticipated, pouncing forward with all the coiled power of those thick hind legs. Rideaux didn't have time to brace himself, taking the full brunt of its assault with an embarrassing "Oof!" as it knocked him back and set him rolling. Rideaux tucked inward, grateful more than ever for the protective Chromatus armour that covered his body. He skidded to a halt close to the surrounding battlements, and barely had time to uncurl before the creature pounced at him again. This time he was slightly more prepared, kicking with both feet together and striking its chest with a meaty thunk. It yelped and contorted in the air, but landed with something close to grace, wings spreading in support to either side.

That confirmed it. These things _weren't_ capable of flight. Rideaux smirked triumphantly, gathering himself into a steady crouch and staring at the beast's beady unseeing eyes. Flightless and sightless and deaf as posts—the poor useless things really _deserved_ to die. Rideaux waited a few seconds, watching with quiet disgust the saliva dribbling over its jagged mismatched jaws, and then struck forward. It was expecting him, of course, but he'd taken that into account; it lunged high, attempting to leap over his thrust, and Rideaux's attack rose with it. The creature was gouged from neck to groin, and it took only a final surge of momentum to propel its wounded form clean over the battlements. It must have been dead before it even reached the ground.

And then he was free to breathe again. Rideaux climbed back to his feet, valiantly ignoring the nauseous dizzy rush that accompanied the action. His fingers tingled, and there was a curious numbness laying around his cheeks and lips, indescribably _weird_. But that was all. He was walking, he was moving. He smirked victorious, only a little lopsided, took a necessary moment to adjust his hair, then set to the gruesome task of retrieving his waylaid scalpels.

At some point the wounded monster had died, or at least passed into deathly unconsciousness. Meanwhile, Julius had just about managed to struggle onto one armoured elbow, sensation apparently returning at a slow but steady rate. Rideaux smiled patronising encouragement as he worked away at the corpse still holding his blades, quite delighted with his literally captive audience. He tugged the last blade free with a grisly visceral flourish, then raised his voice, careful to disguise the way his tongue felt thick and unwieldy in his mouth. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Do you remember what Kline said?" Julius responded, ignoring the question; now that Rideaux had the chance to pay full attention he could hear the same thickness of speech echoed in Julius's heavy voice. "She said _one_. One monster. Not five."

"I know." Rideaux rolled his shoulders, then made his way to Julius's side, keeping a cautious eye toward the sky. "And she said it would be airborne. What do you think?"

"I think," said Julius, sounding the words out carefully, "That we just killed a fresh litter of..." He fumbled for the right word.

"Puppies?" Rideaux supplied helpfully. Julius gave him a withering look, quite commendable given his current embarrassing position.

"Whelps," He finished. "The mother can't be far away, and she isn't going to be pleased. I suppose this explains why she was so aggressive." Julius tilted his head then, looking up at Rideaux with fresh speculation. "And why their senses were underdeveloped. But what did you do? They couldn't seem to track you." In a bitter undertone, Julius added, "They didn't have a problem with _me_."

He'd been wondering the very same thing, but it wasn't until Julius spoke the question aloud that the answer became suddenly apparent. It had been earlier that morning, almost an afterthought before leaving his apartment to meet Julius and the do-gooders out in the Elympion wilderness. He'd wanted to avoid undue complications, so idly splashed a standard-issue Holy Bottle under his exclusive cologne... Enough, apparently, to thoroughly confuse the freshly formed minds of these poor hopeless creatures.

Rideaux's smile was deliberately enigmatic. "What would you have me say, former Director Kresnik? I am a man of many hidden talents."

Julius scoffed derisively, but Rideaux thought he could detect a shadow of curious respect in Julius's eyes. Pleased beyond words, Rideaux reached down, grasped Julius's forearm, and pulled. What resulted was a somewhat uncharacteristic yelp, and a _very_ uncharacteristic wobble, and then Julius was upright, kneeling and tenuous but no longer stuck in the dismal horizontal. Rideaux's pleasure was cut short at the sight this new angle afforded. The back of Julius's head was matted with thick dark blood. Julius, after taking a long moment to regain his bearings, seemed to read his expression. "Don't read too much into it. They dragged me here after they paralysed me. It was a bit of a rough ride, but it's nothing serious. Looks worse than it is. You know how head wounds bleed."

_I also know what head wounds lead to, you idiot_, Rideaux almost snapped. Instead he settled for sneering irritation. "Did I look worried? You poor thing. You're already delusional." Decision abruptly made, Rideaux rapped firm knuckles against Julius's armoured torso. "Change back."

"What?"

"_Change back_," Rideaux enunciated with caustic deliberation. Julius, still feeling the potent effects of that toxic spore, nonetheless shook his head in refusal.

"I'm not going to let you fight alone—" He began. Rideaux didn't give him the chance to finish.

"My dear moron, what do you think I've been doing so far? You can barely move, much less _help_. I've already killed five of these things. One more is _not_ going to make a difference." Julius looked set to argue further; Rideaux raised his voice, lip curling. "Don't think about talking over me, Julius Will Kresnik. You are going to do exactly what I tell you, or else two things are going to happen. First, I won't fix up that bloody head of yours, which will cause quite a stir when Ludger sees it. Second, I'll _tell_ Ludger—" Tell Ludger _what? _What threat would prove most potent? Rideaux's voice tightened. "_Everything_. Everything you don't want him to know. Quite an exhaustive list, isn't it?"

Julius, grey-skinned under the influence of the Chromatus, somehow managed to grow more pallid. "I don't want you to fight by yourself," He said again. Rideaux could practically hear the wounded pride echoing in his words.

"How tragic for you." Rideaux turned to scan the sky, no longer willing to meet that infuriating blue-eyed gaze. "You listen to me, Julius. Elle isn't the only one getting close to the end of the line. If you want me to cure this, then the least you can do is stick around long enough to see it through." Rideaux's lips thinned. "You can make whatever stupid decisions you like after that. No skin off _my_ back."

"Rideaux," Julius muttered through clenched teeth, and the stiffness of his voice brought Rideaux back to absolute attention in an instant. He followed Julius's tense stare, pinned at some high point on the battlements, and cursed softly at the sight.

It looked much like the others, only larger, and with its insectoid wings glistening and spread. Its eyes, even from this distance, gleamed with an alertness lacking in the whelps, and its jagged teeth seemed even more savage and haphazard in the hulking creature's mouth. All the ferocity of a lupine foe with none of the supposed elegance. The air surrounding it seemed to ripple and surge, a pulsating darkness that unmistakably marked this creature as their intended target. The divergence catalyst, at last coming out to play. Rideaux levelled his blades once more.

Julius, too, attempted to rise, but teetered gracelessly, collapsing back to his knees with an furious pained oath. Rideaux shifted in front of him without hesitation or even thought, a protectiveness borne of many years working side by side. _My partner and my death sentence. _It was a familiar feeling, a dichotomy he'd pondered before. "Change back, _now_," He snapped, one last time.

And finally, Julius did. Rideaux glanced— no, he only _intended_ to glance, meaning only to see whether of not Julius had complied with his demand. Instead he froze, quite suddenly and quite infinitely distracted by what he was seeing. There knelt Julius, gazing back at him, gazing _up_ at him with an expression taut and exhausted. Humiliated at what he perceived to be defeat. A thin trickle of blood edge down his temple, battered red bringing out the vivid blue of his eyes. His jaw was set, his hands clenched in twitching half-paralysed fists.

Julius, humbled, on his knees. At his mercy. Rideaux swallowed, stared. Swallowed again.

The creature was approaching, he could feel the stirring air that heralded its approach. No time, no time for this, but— Rideaux ducked his head low, pressing parted lips dangerously close to Julius's ear, much closer than he would have ever dared had Julius been in a position to resist. "You should wear that expression more often," He hissed, and it seemed to his Chromatus-heightened senses that Julius actually shuddered at the whisper of his words. "It suits you."

Rideaux had enough sense not to wait for a reply. Scalpels poised and body thrumming with far too much unspeakable yearning, he spun, swept into combat, and didn't once look back.

* * *

They returned from the fractured dimension in something close to silence.

Julius quickly reverted to his usual terse self, carrying beneath it an undercurrent of discomfort. Because of his perceived failings? Most likely. He said very little, beyond clinical queries into Rideaux's well-being, and cold formal statements about his own health. Cool professionalism, the same bastion he always turned to.

Rideaux compensated for the frosty silence with copious acidity, twisting the knife of Julius's shortcomings at every possible chance. Usually such an opportunity would have delighted him; right then it only served to compound his darkening mood. The trek back through the Elympion wilderness was bleak, a miserable and moody atmosphere clinging around both their shoulders. An atmosphere that suited Rideaux just fine, or so he finally managed to convince himself; Julius never said anything worth listening to _anyway_.

The rendezvous point was that same copse of trees from which they'd set out from those long hours ago. Julius stopped just short of the goal, turning around and sitting in the grass without so much as a word of explanation. Rideaux, not anticipating the sudden stop, crossed his arms curtly and cocked his head in askance.

"You said you'd look at it," Julius muttered, waving a vague hand in the direction of his bloodied hair. "I don't want Ludger worrying."

Rideaux rolled his eyes so hard it almost _hurt_, but even so he took up position behind Julius and set to work examining the mass of clotted blood and hair. "You really are stuck on him, aren't you?" He muttered between probing touches, words he hadn't quite meant to say but couldn't bring himself to regret. "Have you ever heard of a brother complex?"

"I know it's hard for you to understand," Julius replied, voice almost edging away from that impassive flatness, "But some people actually have healthy relationships. You should try it sometime."

_You—and Bakur._ The words bubbled up in his consciousness, unwelcome and biting. Rideaux almost jabbed his fingers into the tender wound. "Hypocrisy again? Go one single day without lying to that brother of yours. _Then_ you can lecture me on the magic of _healthy_ relationships."

Julius emitted a muffled grunt but little else, the conversation lapsing back into silence. _Do you trust me now?_ Rideaux considered asking, venomous and black, but settled for grinding his teeth in a tired grimace. A few pertinent medical questions were met with volumeless one-word answers. Rideaux gave up, and permitted Julius permission to call himself unharmed.

In the end it wasn't enough. The wound _was_ minor, a lot of blood for a relatively small laceration; Julius had been right when he said scalp wounds had a tendency to run red. Even so, they lacked the means to clean away the blood matted in Julius's golden-brown hair, and so Rideaux was forced to once again endure Ludger's predictably frantic concern. In a day surprisingly fraught with emotions, it was just about the last straw. Huffing, he turned his attention pointedly away and was immediately greeted by Leia.

The damn girl was quickly establishing herself as the most annoyingly cheerful person he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. "Here," She chirped, holding out the untraceable GHS with a strange and unreadable gleam in her vibrant green eyes. Rideaux snatched it, pocketing the thing before Julius could get the bright idea of giving it away to someone else.

"Things were getting pretty intense for a while there. You guys got us out just in the nick of time. Thanks!" She smiled, dazzlingly sunny. "Did it go okay on your end? Julius isn't too hurt, is he?"

"Mild concussion, perhaps. If he wasn't so revolting to be around I would insist on taking him back to my apartment for a more thorough examination." Unintentional innuendo for a change. The girl didn't seem to notice, although that infuriating _Al_ raised an eyebrow. Warming to the subject, and glad for a chance to vent, Rideaux continued. "As it stands, the man can choke and die for all I care. If I'm ever so foolish as to suggest something like this again, please, be a dear and remind me of that."

"You really hate him that much?" She asked, sounding more curious and awed than offended. Her voice did take a hint of reproach when she added, "He's a bit hard to read, but he seems like a good person to me."

"And do _I_ seem like a good person to you?" He let her stutter awkwardly for a second before raising his hands in a languid shrug. "So you see, we are simply not compatible people. It's a terrible shame."

"Hey now, you know what they say about opposites," Alvin interjected, and Rideaux had the impression it was more to save Leia's embarrassment than anything else. Even so he bared his teeth, the closest he could manage to a smile under the circumstances.

It seemed, in truth, that Leia was in no need of such rescue. Taking her moment to recover, she pulled a notebook from the pocket of her blazer and flashed another brilliant undaunted smile. "So, when should we do that interview? I know you're _super_ busy right now, but I promise I won't get in the way. Maybe I can even help. How about it?"

The mental image assaulted him unbidden; himself, trying desperately to work, bombarded with 'help' from Leia and Ivar both. Rideaux balked at the horrific thought. "Sometime soon," He replied, non-committal. She looked momentarily disappointed, but scribbled a quick note before obligingly stuffing the paper and pen away once more.

"It's a date, then. Um, not, like a romantic one, of course!" The idiot girl turned pink, trying to untangle herself from the words she'd just spoken. Rideaux turned away, not at all interested in watching her try to escape embarrassment for the second time in only a few minutes. Instead he pulled out his own GHS, and scrolled to Ivar's number. If they thought he was going to be carrying all these documents back to Triglyph _himself_ they were most sorely mistaken.

Ludger and Julius were still conferring, Jude hovering at the edge of their conversation. Standing behind them, eyes downcast and fingers plucking at her sleeves, stood Elle. Rideaux caught himself scrutinising her, trying to find the telling signs of her parentage. It was in the eyes, of course, more like Ludger's than Julius's but carrying echoes of both. He should have seen it much sooner.

This, then, was why Julius had suddenly become so sensitive to the imagined worthiness of those existing in fractured dimensions. And was this another reason for her constant red-eyed glumness? Not only the loss of her father, but some implied inferiority complex, seeing herself as second fiddle to the Elle yet to be born? Rideaux frowned softly, fascinated by the nuance.

As if sensing his attention, Elle's chin jerked up. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with unselfconscious vehemence. The inspiration hit him suddenly. He smiled at her, and inclined his head.

"Do you ever _miss_ that phony Milla? Or have you forgotten her already?" He asked, loud, clear, and unmistakable.

All conversation halted, all attention collectively snapping toward him at the impact of his words. Even the stupid cat bristled, bounding up to take pride of place at Elle's side. Ludger's expression was lit with astonished fury; Julius's face darkened and his mouth twisted. Rideaux spared them little more than a glance, keeping his attention reserved for the child trembling before him.

And she was trembling, but with fury, not fear. A real brat, and a proud one. Definitely a Kresnik. "Don't talk about her like that!" She screamed, fists balled and gathered at her chest. "Milla was Milla! She wasn't a phony! She was worth ten of you!"

Rideaux responded quickly, acting before Ludger or anyone else had the bright idea to try and interrupt. "But she was from a fractured dimension, wasn't she? The _real_ Milla Maxwell is here now."

Out of the corner of his eye Rideaux saw Julius's eyes widen, saw him reach to lay a steadying hand on Ludger's shoulder.

"That doesn't matter!" Elle advanced toward him, courageous or foolhardy or both. She planted herself at his feet and glowered up with tear-filled eyes, fists still firmly clenched. If she was stupid enough to try and hit him again... "Milla was Milla too! They were both real!"

"Then there we are." Rideaux flicked a dismissive hand at her, the same shooing gesture one might make at a particularly annoying animal. Or Ivar. "Either your Miss Milla was a phony, or you're just as real as she was. You can't have it both ways, kiddo." She stared at him, suddenly wide-eyed and deeply unsure. Inspired once again, he smiled. "What you're doing is being a hypocrite. Ask Uncle Julius what it means."

"I know what it means, stupid," She pouted back at him, but cast an uncertain glance around the group before scuttling nervously to Ludger's side, Rollo bouncing behind her. Rideaux shrugged, and took care not to meet Julius's eye.

But in the end Julius wasn't willing to let the matter go. He marched over as soon as Ludger was sufficiently distracted with talking to the girl, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer enough to mutter in a low, warning tone. "_Don't_ call me that."

"Why not?" Rideaux tilted his head, smiling innocence. "Don't want the girl to like you?" Julius's glare told him that was _exactly_ why. And if he didn't want her to grow attached, that could only mean one thing. Rideaux was prepared to push the issue, but suddenly Jude Mathis appeared at his shoulder, expression mild and gently curious.

"Mr. Rideaux," He started, and Rideaux swelled with private pleasure to hear his name once again elevated in Mathis's pathetic world view. "That was... surprisingly kind of you."

Julius's laughter was steeped in frustrated irony. "That wasn't kind. He's just a pedantic ass. Has to be right about everything."

"I... see," Jude said, clearly unwilling to contradict Julius's words. Rideaux merely bowed his head in acknowledgement of both parties, and smiled all the more serenely.

* * *

Not until much later, recumbent once more in the sanctuary of his own luxurious apartment and nursing a long overdue glass of wine, did it occur to Rideaux to actually _check_ the GHS Leia had handed to him.

The results were... staggering in their absurdity. Rideaux flicked through image after image, expression growing more and more astonished with each snapshot. It seemed that, between them, Leia and Elle had chronicled the entire day's events through a series of increasingly blurry selfies. Some of them were even captioned. They were all, infuriatingly, addressed to 'Riddles'.

Eventually he stopped at one especially alarming shot. He stared, stunned by the sheer gall of it, before scanning the accompanying caption: 'Look! We found you!'

And they certainly had. Rideaux peered at the strange reflection of himself, the fractured version they had seen in passing. The picture showed him merely walking, too distant to really read any facial expression. An average work day, most likely. The sort of day he would have been having, had he not let Julius rope him into disastrous fiasco.

Rideaux's thumb hovered, trying to decide whether or not to delete this image just as he had done with all the rest. Why should he even hesitate? He'd destroyed the entire dimension mere hours ago, how could deleting a single image provoke more of a reaction from him? He pressed the button, trying not to question the strange feeling that had settled in the base of his stomach.

He looked at the next shot, and blanched. "You _can't_ be serious."

It depicted a simple piece of paper, and a signature that was all too familiar. Another caption accompanied it: 'We got your autograph! But he wouldn't sign it Riddles'

"I should think not," Rideaux muttered tartly, and deleted the rest of the album without looking. How these idiots had even survived the day was completely beyond him. He sat back, sipped his wine, and tried to empty his mind of anything but the dulling effects of alcohol.

It didn't work.

Hours later he remained slouched in the same position, staring down the green-tinged world through a second empty bottle of wine. Remembering the way Julius had looked on his knees. It was that twisting distracting image, or drowning himself in the similarities he shared with the man who'd found him all those years ago. The man who'd ruined both their lives.

Eventually he lapsed into an intoxicated sleep, laden with wild, unconscionable dreams.


End file.
